Would You Take Your Place With Me
by Miss Banshee
Summary: The June Revolution has passed and left Èponine, Enjolras and the rest of the Les Amis de l'ABC dealing with the consequences. The situation turns dangerous when the National Guard starts searching for the revolutionists causing the situation to escalate one night after a heated argument between Enjolras and Èponine...
1. Chapter 1

**-Chapter 1-**

"And now, fellow citizens, we are on the right way to a better future! With our June Revolution we lightened a spark of hope for all the people who thought they had sunk too deep to ever see the light again. For some of us the 5th and 6th June had been the day of death. But I say: Don't let their sacrifices be for nothing! My brothers and sisters, I say the end is where we start from!", resounding, thunderous applause filled the café. Only one man was able to raise such emotion in his audience's souls. Once again the leader of Les Amis de l'ABC proved himself to also be the rightful leader of the revolution.

Èponine felt a shiver run down her spine. Enjolras' words never failed to raise an unbelieving wave of euphoria inside her, even though she didn't want to admit it to herself! She couldn't help but be caught by the charismatic revolutionist's eyes. His look was grave but determined. Enjolras' eyes were cold as always, but when he spoke of revolution, ideals and barricades his grey eyes seemed to catch fire. Èponine had never been fond of Enjolras. She had always seen a rich boy playing the revolutionary hero because his life was too boring, but that had changed after the barricade fight. He had fought with his people till the end, he didn't run away when it got ticklish. He had fought with pride and in that moment the rich boy had earned her respect. It didn't mean that she liked him, but she at least knew that he was serious with his plans and ideals.

But still he was Enjolras… Enjolras who fought for equality, but never spoke a word with her although she nearly died at his barricade! The proud, cold and closed up, rich Enjolras with his arrogant manners!

It had been four months now since the June Revolution. Many people had expected the revolutionary organisations to crumble but those two days fighting at the barricades had given the revolutionists more strength, hope and courage than anything else. Many people had left their lives at the barricade of freedom and had become a new reason for the survivors to fight. Bahorel, Lesgle, Prouvaire, Feuilly and Gavroche had died fighting for equality at those days of June. But it seemed that the revolution had never been more effective than now. And everyone knew that Enjolras contributed his sorrow and rage to it.

Marius and Cosette had married quickly after the events at the barricade. Èponine assumed that Marius' near-death-situation had made it clear to him that in times like this he shouldn't wait too long because death could always be faster. Èponine had reasoned that a life in the shadow of Cosette was not the life she wanted and had used the four months to grieve about Gavroche. Times had been hard, harder than ever which was nearly impossible due to the fact that Èponine's life had always been a mess. But somehow she had found a way through the darkest hours. Everyone had found his way to deal with the days of the barricade, but it was Enjolras' belief in the revolution and the martyrs' sacrifice which held the revolutionists together. Still Èponine couldn't deny that she somehow hated him for indirectly taking her brother from her! To Èponine it seemed that the leader of the Les Amis was the coldest person ever, his only affection being his revolution. She had never seen him cry, as the others did. She had never seen him regret. He had put his emotions in words, but to Èponine no word that was spoken to her in her whole life had been true or honest. Why should he be?

Did he grieve for his friends? Èponine had never seen any other emotion on the marmoreal revolutionist's face than the one he put on holding his speeches. The question was: Were those emotions honest or just a mask to call the people together and bring them in line?

Enjolras looked down from his podium on the crowd calling and screaming applause. He felt the special kind of adrenaline flowing through his veins which always filled him when he held a speech. He felt good up there, standing on the podium and fighting for his ideals. He knew how to made use of his special ability to fight not only with weapons but also with words. Enjolras knew that it was a gift that the words seemed to flow from his mouth and directly reached the peoples' ears and hearts.

He raised his fist in the air and shouted "Vive la France". With this gesture he left the podium with straight and precise steps and vanished from Èponine's sight. She felt tears making their way from her eyes down her cheeks. Gavroche would have been beside himself with joy and euphoria, but now the only thing left of him was his memorial… Èponine walked to the bar, one more drink to Gavroche and the other fallen and she would leave…

He made his way through the crowd, Marius gave him a pat on the back and Enjolras gave him a short nod with grave expression. He wasn't in the mood for a talk right now. Enjolras had often wondered how his friends could connect a revolution with good mood, wine and laughing… A revolution wasn't some free-time-activity. A revolution was bond for life, an ideal you would always cling to, all in all it was an earnest and important project which defined the rules you based your life on. Without looking back Enjolras left the café.

He felt the cold October breeze blowing through his blond, wavy locks and leaned against the house wall. Sometimes he asked himself if he would have to answer for his friends' death. Hadn't he been the one who had shown them the path of revolution? Had it been wrong to convince them that France deserved a better future? Had they been as fond of the revolution as he was himself or had they just been caught by his euphoria into something that they would never actually want to die for?

Enjolras had known what danger a revolution brought but in his mind and fantasies he had always hoped that he would be the martyr and not his friends. Enjolras had fought for his ideals, but sometimes he felt such grief for his friends that he had the feeling they died for him, not for their dreams as one should actually do in a revolution. Today was one of those days where he knew that he was actually empty, the only thing keeping him alive was his revolution and deep within Enjolras knew that this would be his death…

A death he had no problem dying, a death his friends had already died…

Outside Enjolras took a deep breath and decided that it was the best to go back to his friends. Just when he was about to turn around and head back to the café's door he felt something hitting his body hard.

Enjolras cursed and tried to keep his balance "Merde, watch your way!" It was a young woman with dark brown, nearly black curls. She was wearing a worn out, tattered brown dress that highlighted her slim figure and as far as Enjolras could see, her face was strained with tears that made their way down her cheeks. It was Èponine…

Enjolras heard her mumble something like "Pardon, precious Monsieur" but the sarcasm she put into it was clearly audible. She tried to pass him hastily and didn't even give him a short look.

"Èponine, what happened?" Enjolras' tried to sound as polite as possible, though his interest was little.

"Nothing that Monsieur should rack his revolutionary head about" she snapped with a voice fierce as a blade. He looked at her with cold, grey eyes as she turned around again he tried to hold her back and put his hand on her shoulder. "Monsieur, I don't need your sympathy for it was you who brought this despair about me or better my brother! " Èponine now looked Enjolras straight in the eye. She searched for a spark of understanding, sorrow or even bad conscious, but she failed. She could have also tried to find those three aspects in a marble statue's eyes.

Enjolras knew what she meant, he had been the one who Gavroche had been most fond of. Enjolras had been Gavroche's example. Still he didn't want his own thoughts about his complicity with his friends' death be affirmed by her. "I didn't force you're brother into this revolution. I didn't want him to be at the barricade that day! He was a brave and honourable young boy, which I would have never wanted to die that day!".

"Yet I never saw you grieve about him! Or about any of the others!" her voice sounded shrill in Enjolras' ears and he had never seen her that agitated.

"I can't let my emotions come through Mademoiselle! Emotions are primitive and keep your brain from working, they would distract me from my… "

She cut him off losing control about herself now. "From your what Monsieur? From your revolution? You mean the revolution you feed with people's emotions? You make use of those feelings you think so little of! It is people's emotions, who lead them, so how can you degrade them to a distraction of your revolution? " .

Enjolras was caught off guard for a moment. He had never looked at the situation that way and he had never expected the fragile gamine to speak with such structured and overthought strength in her words.

"If you are so averse to my revolution, why did you fight at the barricade? You think yourself clever, turning my words against me, but if you think that way of me, why did you join my revolution that day?" Enjolras' had also gotten louder and every syllable oozed with averseness.

"Believe me Monsieur, different to you I can't spend my whole time daydreaming about a revolution with plans that are way too unrealistic to work out…"

"Oh yes! Now I remember… It was Marius who you wanted to be with that day! But now tell me Mademoiselle Èponine: Which imagination is more unrealistic? My dream of a free France with equality for everyone, or your pie in the sky believing that Marius would ever have eyes for you?" This time Enjolras had cut her off. His words had come out sharp, cold and as quick as a flash.

Suddenly Enjolras felt pain twitching through his lip and heard a slap. "You think you are a revolutionist, but you talk down to my like any other rich man! I don't know what my brother saw in you, but it's a shame he died for you" Èponine's voice was no more shrill or loud, it was silent and deadly with a slightly pained undertone. She turned around on her heels and left the Enjolras without glancing back.

Enjolras felt something hot and wet drop from his mouth. He put his hand up to sample the spot where she had hit him. Looking at his hand angrily his apprehension proved itself to be true. Èponine's rage had left some marks on him. He wiped the blood from his lip and spit out so he got rid of the rusty taste of blood…

**Is it worth continuing? Please, let me know through reviews!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Note:**

**I uploaded the second chapter once again because I found some spelling mistakes! For those who already read it: There is ****NO**** plot change only a correction of my spelling! **

**-Chapter 2-**

Èponine tried to hold back the tears. Tears of anger, despair and sorrow. She wiped the tears away in rage. How could this bourgeois boy incite her to lose her countenance that way?! The last time she had been so out of control was when her parents didn't even show the slightest interest in Gavroche's death. That had been the moment where she knew that it was time to break the tie. She had let behind her vicious parents that night one and for all and started being independent.

But this time it had been her pride, who was hurt. With only a few words Enjolras had been able to unmask and even expose her. It didn't need a life filled with pity and sadness and strife to break her mental shield, her mental barricade! It only needed Enjolras the master of words and speech and that made Èponine feel helpless. She had been so shocked at how easily this man had unmasked her that she didn't know what else to do. She had slapped him and with it admitted defeat. She had confirmed what he most likely thought about her: Just a gamine who wasn't able to articulate and argue without turning violent…

And there was something else… Enjolras had once again made it clear, that a girl like her didn't have a future. She couldn't judge Enjolras for something he was right about. He was correct! No one would ever see anything else in her than a gamine with rich friends!

Èponine was so full of rage that she hadn't even noticed the rain that was drenching her dress and hair but now the freezing cold made her shiver. Great, if she had luck she would be coming down with a bad cold to remember her of this frustrating evening, she thought sarcastically.

Suddenly she heard voices from the other end of the road and looked up. Two men were standing about 20 metres away and one of them was shouting something. Èponine couldn't understand his words due to the pouring rain. The men were approaching her and on close inspection she was able to identify them as officers from the National Guard. Èponine slowly turned around: officers calling out for her never were a good sign. If she ran away now they would think she had committed a crime, a confession wouldn't be clearer. While Èponine was trying to walk away as if she didn't hear them, she combed through her mind searching for something she might have done in the past days that would be worse enough for the National Guard following her and ambushing her at night. Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard the men's steps getting faster and louder behind her. They were coming nearer.

Although Èponine would never admit it, she felt fear arising and started running! This was serious, those weren't some pettifogging officers who tried to punish any poor, homeless soul. They were searching especially for her! That was the moment she started running, she knew the streets better than her followers. Her chance to escape them was actually pretty high, for Èponine knew every inch of the small alleys and slums of Paris. Still hearing the man calling after her she made her way into a side alley which led to one of Paris' high streets where there was always much noise and many people, even at night when the theatres and operas closed their doors after entertaining Paris' arrogant upper class with all its fine, naive Mademioselles and lordly Monsieurs.

Suddenly she saw something moving inches away from her and for the second time this evening Èponine ran into someone. This time she stumbled to the ground harder and felt her hands hurting and starting to bleed where they had met the ground when Èponine tried to cushion her fall. She picked herself up as fast as possible but wasn't able to escape a pair of arms wrapping around her from behind making it impossible for her to free her arms. She struggled against the man's grip as violent as she could but she couldn't free herself.

"Damn it! Let me go, the National Guard is behind me, so let me go unless you want to be accused of attacking me!" Èponine spat but she heard a sardonic laugh. She could feel the man who was holding her putting his mouth near her ear and felt is breath on her skin. Èponine tried to break free once more and she kicked the man's shin as hard as possible. A loud scream rose behind her and she freed her arms only to be pushed against the brick wall, meeting the hard and cold stones with her head. For a moment she saw black spots concealing her view and suddenly she felt the weight of a body leaning against her so she couldn't escape the wall and the man's cold and dirty fingers wrapped around her neck and pressed her against the wall.

"Is that the right way to great your father after such a long time of separation? I don't remember your mother raising you that brazen way, my dear Èponine" Èponine's father whispered coldly. His breath reeked putrid and rotten with an alcoholic aftertaste. Her father didn't seem to care that his daughter's hands were scratched open from the fall or that she was breathing heavily and rattling due to the lack of air.

"As I said father, the National Guard is after me, so you better go! You know that they are still searching for Montparnasse and you!" Èponine's voice was still strong but choppy. The hate she put in her voice couldn't be overheard. Thénardier laughed out loud just when the two officers were turning into the alley.

"My dear daughter" he said tightening his grip on her neck "I am even with these men, in contrary to you…" Èponine didn't know what he meant. Her father had committed too many crimes to be released from jail if they had caught him. Her father had always been hunted by the National Guard, so why was he suddenly no more afraid of these men?

"Thénardier! Let her go, we still need her! Think of our pact!" A deep voice came to Èponine's ears and in the same moment she felt her father's grip loosening and was thrown on the wet ground. Her brain was clicking like a clockwork: What had her father to give that would be of any interest for the National Guard?

"I think it's your turn to leave now, Monsieur Thénardier. From now on this is no more your business. You fulfilled your obligations!" the same deep voice continued and Èponine stood up as fast as she could. Scanning the area she found that each of the two officers blocked one of the alley's ends and with them her escape way. She knew that she had no chance escaping, she could not pass them without getting caught again.

Thénardier looked at his daughter a last time. "I hope you can help the Monsieurs, Èponine!" He said and turned around with a grin and left. At the end of the alley he looked back once more "I just hope that your precious, revolutionary friends won't be too mad at you!" he sneered.

Although Èponine was pretty confused about his last comment she didn't react. She was focused on the two inspectors now. Her father had left, so her chances to escape grew with only two men left to fight. Each officer had an epee and a dagger. They seemed to think that they didn't need their pistols and bats to deal with a woman of the streets.

"So Mademoiselle" the one officer said as if he amused himself by calling her a Mademoiselle. "When we caught your father some days ago, he told us some very interesting things"

Èponine's voice was sneering "What could a scum like my father probably tell you that could raise your interest?" she dismissed him.

"There are some things the government wants to know and who could tell us better what is going on here in the streets of Paris than someone who lives there?" the second officer raised his voice for the first time.

"So what do you need me for?" Èponine slowly started to approach one of the officers. Maybe she could slip through his fingers, she had always been small so maybe he wouldn't be able catch her if she hurried.

"Your father's information isn't of value for us! He just led us to you Mademoiselle. You are the source of information we need. And for helping us catching you, we agreed to…"

Èponine suddenly understood. "You mean he exchanged me for his liberty!" she spat out and anger caught her. Suddenly it was all so clear. Her father's comment on her friends and the inspector mentioning a pact between her father and him.

The National Guard wanted inside information about the revolution and her father had used her to escape from prison. Typical…

"If you want to call it this way… But, Mademoiselle, I think you already know what kind of information we want from you. You truly seem to be a clever girl, just as your father said". Great, Èponine thought, the only good thing her father ever said about her would be her grave! She was mad at her father, how could a father sell his daughter's freedom?!

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Monsieurs. But I have no idea what you're talking about and I expect you to let me go now" Èponine said through clenched teeth and abruptly started running past one of the officers. She tried to sidestep him but directly felt an arm around her waist and a hand grasping for her hair pulling her head back to her neck. Pain flashed through her scalp and she breathed heavily.

"Oh, I think you know just exactly what kind of information we mean, mon chéri". The second officer stepped in front of her and she could feel his breath in her face. He had brown hair and dark, nearly black eyes. His voice was quiet and teasing fitting the smirk that appeared on his face when he let his hand slide over her cheek caressing her skin. Èponine turned her face away from him in order to avoid his touch. "Why do you act so coyly, chéri? Just some information about your little friends. Where do they meet when they plan their rebellions? It's just some words of you and we will surely leave you alone. Unless…" The officer's mud-green eyes wandered from her face to her décolleté and paused there.

That was enough! Èponine spit the man in the face and started struggling against the other man's grip around her waist. "Just because I live on the streets it doesn't mean that I have no pride! So get your hands off of me you bastard!" her voice was full of hatred and rage. What did those men think who they were? They played the loyal and trustworthy National Guard but by night they started beating information out of people and playing with the thought of raping women! Èponine directly felt the consequences for her actions and screamed out when she felt a hand hitting her face hard. She felt her lip crack open, but she didn't look down. She would not bow her head to those bastards! Even the second strike into her stomach didn't break her.

"You shouldn't have done that you little slut!" The officer yelled and hit her hard once again. Èponine spit out blood and started another attempt to break free. She spun her head back with all her force so it hit the other man's nose and a disgusting crack confirmed her that the first part of her plan had succeeded. She was able to break free and kicked the green eyed officer directly into his sensitive spot making him bow down and falling on his knees. Èponine started running but stumbled to the ground when something caught her foot. The officer was in pain indeed but he seemed to be too enraged to just let her slip away. Èponine tried to break free, but he was already crawling over her pinning her to the ground by clasping her throat.

"You'll pay for this! Tell me what you know about the revolution!" he yelled ad her while he was trying to keep her from fighting him.

"You won't get a word out of me! It is people like you we revolutionists fight against! I would rather die than betray them and reveal their secrets!" Èponine screamed panting for air, her finger nails were digging into to officer's hands flesh. She felt his grip loosening around her throat and hit him in the face scratching her nails into the man's face causing blood to flow from the scratches. The man screamed again and suddenly Èponine knew why he had loosened his grip around her throat: He had reached for his dagger.

Èponine struggled even more against his grip when she felt the cold blade against her throat. "I give you one more chance little slut, tell me what you know about the revolutionists!" Èponine only laughed at him. "Isn't it funny, that you as a grown man can't break a poor gamine! Believe me officer, the revolution is on the run and when I die today I at least know that I died for a better future! A better France! "

Èponine felt the dagger's blade piercing through her right shoulder and cried out loud. She felt hot liquid flowing from her shoulder and heard the inspector scream at her, but her vision blurred. Everything she heard was dulled. In her mind she thought how ironically it was that she died for a revolution, which she had degraded to impossibility just a few moments ago when she had argued with Enjolras.

Enjolras… For whose ideals, dreams and intentions she now died. Or were those her own ideals just hiding behind the curtain of a reality based life which had led her to her bane? She didn't know, she just knew that the officer's weight was put away from her body, his grip around her throat loosened and someone was calling for her from far, far away. Someone lifted her up gently.

Then she let the black take her in…

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, followed or favoured my last chapter! I hope for some more reviews, so please take the time and tell me what you think about the story so far! I would be deeply grateful!**


	3. Chapter 3

**-Chapter 3-**

Joly made his way home. It was late and many of his friends had already gone home after their meeting at the café. Especially Enjolras' early and abrupt leaving bothered him. Joly had seen his revolutionary leader leaving the meeting directly after his speech. He had returned about 20 minutes later to collect his things and had stormed out of the café without saying a word to anyone. Marius had been too obsessed with Cosette to notice, while Grantaire was too drunk. The rest of the Les Amis de l'ABC had been discussing strategies and were also too busy to see.

Joly remembered Enjolras' face, it had been cold, lithic, nearly stone-like. His marmoreal facial features were only distracted by his lip which was cracked open and a slight stream of blood running down his chin. Joly, as a student of medicine, thought the wound to come from a fight, but Enjolras normally wasn't a person who started bar fights. He was too sincere, intelligent and agile. And he was above such small conflicts.

The rain was falling down on Joly and drenched his clothes. He passed Enjolras' flat and saw the light of a candle floating from the windows. Tomorrow he would ask him what had been going on this evening but now he wanted nothing more than to escape the rain, so he continued walking.

After some minutes he suddenly heard a loud scream. Joly turned around but found the street behind him empty. He stood still to listen and heard movements and voices from out of a dark and easily overlooked alley that crossed the street he was walking on. A shiver ran down his spine but he brought himself to draw nearer to the scene.

He saw three men. Two inspectors of the National Guard and another man. Joly couldn't identify the third man, all he knew was that he for sure wasn't another inspector and that he was from a lower social class. But those things were secondarily. Joly's eyes were caught by a fourth figure, smaller than the three men and for sure weaker because she was being pinned against the wall by the third man. It was for sure a young woman, that was all Joly could know, because the shadows of the dark alley and the men's bodies obstructed his view.

Realism kicked in and Joly knew that he couldn't help her. Not alone. Three grown men and in case of the inspectors also armed - against one single student! His chances to beat them were nearly not existing. It was one of the moments where Joly regretted that he wasn't as skilled in fighting as some of his friends were, like Enjolras and…

Suddenly Joly paused. Enjolras-that was the only chance to help the girl. His flat was only some streets away from here and he was truly one of the best close-combat fighters, which he had proved at the barricade months ago.

**-Enjolras-**

Enjolras had just tried to concentrate on one of his law books when he heard a loud knock on the door. He groaned being at the end of his tether. He had been pleased that none of his friends back at the café had asked him what had happened to him, or better to his mouth. But more than his cracked lip his conscience afflicted him. Shortly after his argument with Èponine he had been triumphant about winning the argument and forcing her so out of her composure. But looking at it from a distant view he had had no right to unmask her this way. He had been just what he never wanted to be: A rich boy looking down on her shooting her chances and her virtue down just because she was poor. Where had this reluctant reaction come from? Normally he was always collected and closed up, out of reach for any emotion. Was it the fact that she had insulted him and his ideals, the way that she had accused him of capitalising his audience's feelings?

Or the fact that Éponine had nearly left her life back at the barricade for a rich boy who never was hers because he was too blind to see what a strong and independent woman she was and that she had way more potential than the bourgeois Cosette? Deep inside Enjolras somehow knew that his rage was directed towards Marius and not Èponine.

Absorbed in thoughts Enjolras made his way to the door and opened it just to find a soaked and agitated Joly on his doorstep. Enjolras wanted to say something but Joly cut him off before he was even able to say a word.

"Save your questions Enjolras! I'll tell you on the way, I need your help!" Joly's dragged him out of his apartment, down the staircase and out on the dark, cold and rainy streets of the nightly Paris.

"Joly, what's going on! What happened?" Enjolras asked while he was following his friend rushing through the rain. He couldn't imagine what might have happened.

"I was on my way home! I saw three men, two from the National Guard and another man assaulting a young woman. I couldn't help her alone, you know about my lacking fighting skills and…" Yes, Enjolras knew about his lacking fighting skills. He always said that it was understandable that a student, whose profession it was to fix people, couldn't beat them up at same time. That was also why military surgeons normally didn't fight at the field but rather waited for the time when their skills would be needed, which was normally after the battle.

"Why didn't you tell me back at my flat, I would have taken my pistol with me?" Enjolras shouted through the rain but Joly didn't pay attention. He suddenly stood still and leaned against a wall pointing at a small dark alley that crossed the street few metres away. He put a finger on his mouth telling Enjolras that he should be quiet.

That was when Enjolras heard the voices.

"You won't get a word out of me! It is people like you we revolutionists fight against! I would rather die than betray them and reveal their secrets!" the angry voice of a woman echoed through the alley followed by a deep male voice "I give you one more chance little slut, tell me what you know about the revolutionists!"

Enjolras looked at Joly and Joly's wide eyes proved him that his friend had also understood what this fight was about. It was about the Les Amis de l'ABC and the revolution.

Abruptly and simultaneously Joly and Enjolras both rushed into the street only to hear the women's weak voice laughing sarcastically "Isn't it funny, that you as a grown man can't break a poor gamine! Believe me officer, the revolution is on the run and when I die today I at least know that I died for a better future! A better France!" Her words were followed by a painful scream.

Enjolras saw one inspector lying on the ground probably unconscious. The other one was kneeling over the woman's body hunkering over her making it impossible for her to escape. Enjolras was only able to see the inspector's back as he hustled him away from the woman making him scream. He tried to stand up and use his dagger against Enjolras but the student hit him with full force and the loud and disgusting cracking sound told Enjolras that he had just cracked the inspector's jaw. The inspector fell on his back, the dagger still in his hand and Enjolras kicked the blade out of his hand. He just wanted to finish his job and knock the man out when he heard Joly calling from behind.

Enjolras froze. He knew that undertone in his friend's voice. He had had the same voice telling Enjolras that Bahorel and Lesgle wouldn't recover from the injuries they had gotten at the barricade. The normally calm leader closed his eyes, took a deep breath and turned around.

"What is it Joly?" he asked, trying to blank out the cries of pain, which came from the inspector lying on the ground behind him.

Joly's face was pale and Enjolras saw him moving his lips to silent words "It's one of us! It's 'Ponine"

Enjolras heart skipped a beat looking at Joly with wide eyes. He forced himself to look at the young woman lying on the ground unconscious. Lying in a puddle of rain-water, the blood abandoning her body was slowly melding with the water giving it a red shade. Her hair was drenched from rain and blood.

She was pale and her arms were stretched away from her body. With her eyes closed she nearly looked peacefully if there wouldn't be the bruises that covered her body and her pale face. Her lip was cracked open and both of her hands were bleeding probably scraped open when she had tried to catch herself from falling during the fight. Blood was floating from the stab wound in her right shoulder.

Enjolras realised all this within a second but to him it seemed as if he had looked at Èponine for hours. He was ripped out of his trance by the wincing body behind him. Abruptly without thinking Enjolras turned around hitting the brick wall hard with his fist, screaming out loud! The rampant gesture was filled with anger, black despair and other emotions Enjolras couldn't assign. He didn't even feel his hand bleeding after the raw wall had defeated his fist's skin and made his knuckles scratch open.

"Can you help her, Joly! Tell me you can help her!" He turned around screaming to his friend who put pressure on Èponine's wound.

"There's a chance! But don't raise your hopes!" Enjolras only paid attention to Joly's first statement and kneeled down beside Èponine.

"We have to get her somewhere where you can take care of her. Go to your flat and fetch all the implements you need, I will bring her to my apartment and try to stop the bleeding so far! We'll meet there as soon as possible!" It wasn't a simple suggestion, it was an order and Enjolras knew that. He didn't know why but his sense of organisation, strategies and surviving had activated itself just like it had made him to the indisputable leader of the barricade four months ago. Joly nodded and stood up as fast as he could, leaving Enjolras with Èponine.

Enjolras lifted the fragile body up as gentle as he could and when Èponine's head leaned against his shoulder she let out a moan. It didn't sound as if she was in pain, it rather sounded as if she was sleeping and someone was interrupting her slumber. Enjolras kissed her forehead gently before carrying her to his apartment as fast as he could…

Joly arrived some minutes after Enjolras at his friend's flat. Relief flew through Enjolras' veins when he saw his friend entering his apartment. He had been scared that Èponine would fade to death being intrusted in his care. Her pulse had been steady but weak and the blood had stopped flowing that inexorably from her shoulder but Enjolras hadn't been sure if it was due to his good care or due to the lack of blood left in her body.

Joly had laughed a bitter laugh at this comment and had said "No one dies of a stab wound in the right shoulder that fast, my friend! I am more worried about her usual health state. A person that is already weak because of her conditions of living is much weaker than you and me who get three meals a day and enough sleep!"

Suddenly awareness hit him. Enjolras realised how many people suffered from a fate such as Èponine's and how many of them died after incidents like this one. He knew that it was pure luck that she had survived. She could have been one of many, gone with the wind, just lost and never seen again. No one grieving over her and not even an obituary in the journal. Just forgotten…

His thoughts were interrupted by a weak moan from the table beside him. Enjolras looked down and saw Èponine opening her eyes slightly. It was the first time Enjolras noticed how beautiful and deep her brown eyes were. She seemed to look through him as if she was far away with her thoughts.

"Merde" Joly swore, realising that she had woken up.

"What's wrong? She's awake isn't that…"

"No it's not good Enjolras! I have to suture the wound and I had hoped that she would not be conscious during this procedure" Joly rummaged around in his bag and took out a fragile needle and black string "You know your job!"

Enjolras looked at him in a questioning way not sure what his friend meant with his last comment. Joly pointed at Èponine's hand "Take her hand, she'll need something to hold on while I do my job"

Èponine's fingers were cold and limp and seemed so frail as Enjolras took her hand. She didn't react to his touch but he felt her fingers starting to shiver when Joly freed her shoulder from her dress, carefully to not reveal too much so the woman would keep her innocence. Her wound was below her right collarbone and was about five inches big. Around the wound effusions of blood had formed and Èponine's skin looked unbelievable pale in contrast to the dark red that was flowing from the stab wound. Enjolras pulled the chairs away from the table so he could step closer and see what Joly would do.

At first Èponine didn't react to the needle piercing through her skin but Enjolras saw how the feeling of the string being drawn through her skin and flesh over and over again brought silent tears to her eyes. Her grip around his hand reinforced and he didn't let go of her. He caressed her cold hand slightly causing her to turn her head a bit looking at him. Her brown eyes were glassy but this time focused on him.

Enjolras didn't know what to say. He would be wrong claiming that he never had been a man of many words, but in this moment he didn't know what to tell her. That he was proud of her, because she had been strong enough and brave enough to bear the pain? That he was worried about her? That he couldn't see her in pain?

He didn't know how long it had taken for Joly to fully suture the wound and to examine her gashes and bruises of secondary importance. Èponine had fallen asleep about half an hour ago, with her fingers still clasping Enjolras' warm hand. The first shafts of sunlight already enlightened the apartment and Enjolras looked from Èponine's quiet and peaceful slumbering face up to Joly who stood up. Joly had dark circles under his eyes and his skin seemed to be grey from the lack of sleep and the still present aftermath of the nightly shock. Enjolras knew that he himself didn't look much better.

His blond hair was still a bit wet from the rain, his lip had probably turned bruised-blue until now. His clothes, which were normally very neat were full of Èponine's blood and he was for sure pale as a ghost not forgetting the dark circles under his eyes.

Joly let a blood drained swab fall out of his hand and looked at Enjolras."I think for now it's done… She needs to rest now. We shouldn't wake her now. I'm happy that she was so silent during the procedure, she truly is brave girl"

Enjolras nodded and looked at her once again. "I'll bring her to my room. She can stay here until she's fit enough to decide whether she wants to stay here or not"

"Why shouldn't she want? It would be the best for her?" Joly asked packing his medical things back in his bag and washing the blood from his fingers.

"Let's say, Mademoiselle Thénardier and me have had some difficulties getting along" Enjolras murmured lifting Èponine up and carrying her to the door of his room. Joly smiled slightly, he assumed where Enjolras' bruised lip came from but he didn't want to beat a dead horse, not this morning.

Enjolras laid Èponine down on his bed and covered her with two blankets. A sudden sadness rose in him as he looked down on her. She hadn't deserved this. She didn't deserve any of the bad things that happened in her life, she deserved something better…

**I'm not proud of this chapter. I hope you like it anyway, so please review! I thank everyone who has reviewed my last chapter and hope that I didn't disappoint you with that one! I noticed that there are so many people following this story (which I am very happy about, so thank you guys!) but I would love to have some more reviews, just so I know what you think of it personally! Those of you who write FFs know this feeling, I guess (: **

**I hope that I'll be able to continue soon! **


	4. Chapter 4

**-Chapter 4-**

Enjolras looked up from his books and documents, which were broad on the table in front of him, when he saw Marius entering his flat carrying a white box. It was already noon and he would have expected his friend to be either with his Cosette at home or with the Les Amis at the café.

"How about knocking?" Enjolras commented bleakly but Marius just ignored his statement and threw the box on the table.

"Joly already warned me that you might be in a bad mood. How is she?" Marius asked gazing at Enjolras. Enjolras closed his book with a snap.

"She hasn't woken up yet, but she rests easy. I would have thought that she might get a fever, but she didn't. Her wound is not infected but she has many effusions and small scratches and stuff like that." He answered and pointed at the box "What's that?"

"A present from Cosette. She said that Èponine would probably need new clothes now," Marius said "I just bought some".

Enjolras raised his eyebrow on the thought of Marius going shopping in a women-boutique and buying a dress. "What did the others say when Joly told them the news this morning?" he said instead of a sarcastic comment.

"Well, Combeferre and Courfeyrac were pretty shocked. They send their best wishes and hope that she'll be better soon. Grantaire was too drunk to realise the degree of damage but he said that he was proud of you for finally getting a woman into your bed even if you didn't do it the official way…" Marius tried his best to stay neutral but Enjolras saw the smile playing on the corner of his mouth.

"Don't you think this situation is way too serious to joke about?" he stated his voice suddenly rising. Enjolras was used to Grantaire's comments on his private life but he didn't need Marius parroting every word Grantaire said.

Marius looked down and cleared his voice "Well maybe you are more interested in the fact that the two inspectors disappeared. Joly and Combeferre went back to the alley this morning. We don't know what happened to them…"

"This could be a problem…" Enjolras frowned. Before they arrived at the scene Joly had told him that there were three men assaulting Èponine. Where did the third man go and what role did he play? He looked up when he heard something. He looked at Marius and both students hurried to the door which led to Enjolras' bedroom.

They found Èponine coughing hard while she was pushing the blankets away. Divining what would realistically happen next, Enjolras approached her in a heartbeat…

Èponine didn't know where she was. The last thing she remembered from the last night's events was a terrible pain in her shoulder and someone holding her hand. She remembered clinging to the hand as the pain became unbearable. It had been a man, but the only thing she could say to describe him was, that his warm hands had given her strength and comfort. She had felt safe and secure in a way she hadn't felt in a long time.

Still wearing her ragged and now also bloody dress Èponine tried to stand up ignoring the acute pain in her shoulder and in her head. She felt numb… As soon as her feet touched the cold parquet floor her legs didn't want to carry her weight anymore. She saw black spots, which constricted her sight and she felt dizzy. Her body faltered and Èponine prepared herself for meeting the ground in less than a second, but she didn't. Someone was holding her…

"Èponine, why didn't you call for us? We would have helped you?!" She heard a familiar voice. She looked up and saw Marius standing in front of her with a worried and sympathetic expression in his face. Èponine wondered: If Marius wasn't the one, who had kept her from falling and who still carried most of her weight, who was it?

She turned her head and saw a young man with wavy, blond hair and marmoreal face behind her. He held his arms around her waist so would not fall again and looked gravely at her. She would have recognised his face everywhere. Enjolras!

"Wait! Where am I? How long…" she stammered while she was trying to earn control over her legs again, only to be disappointed. She was too weak to carry her weight all alone, but at least she didn't hang helpless in Enjolras arms anymore.

"You're at my flat. Joly found you last night and brought you here because my flat is the nearest to the place where you were hurt. You haven't been out that long. It's rarely afternoon" Enjolras answered from behind her. He failed at not noticing the alarmed way she had looked at him and remembered their argument from the last night. It seemed already weeks ago, but it had been only one night that separated the present from the past.

"Èponine, you look terrible!" Marius' comment caused Enjolras to role his eyes.

"I'm sure she feels much better now, Marius" he snapped sarcastically. "Èponine, if you want to stand up one of us will prepare a bath for you. Until then you can wait in the living room" Enjolras offered. Èponine hesitated for a moment. She didn't know how to behave. On the one hand she hated Enjolras for his arrogant way and she hadn't forgotten the argument they had had and that she had actually slapped him across the face. On the other hand she had to be thankful because he had left his bed to her and cared for her. She decided that the polite and civilised way would be the best.

"I would prefer the bath rather than lying down again" she said.

"Right. Can you walk?" Enjolras still carried most of her weight, so he didn't wait for an answer "Lean on me" he said and pulled her arm around his neck so she could hold on to him. Èponine felt awkward for a moment. As she leaned on him she decided that it was way better than being carried around like a damsel in distress, so she let herself be supported while she was walking towards the living room.

"Enjolras, don't you think she should…" Marius was cut off by Enjolras.

"No Marius! I think she should decide for herself what is best for her, don't you think?" With those words he led Èponine to the couch and let her sit down. Èponine was a bit stunned, but she was happy that Enjolras didn't treat her with kid gloves. That was something she had never really liked about Marius.

After half an hour the bath was prepared and Èponine felt strong enough to walk on her own again. She thanked god for it, because nothing in the world would have been more embarrassing than being carried or helped into the bath-tube by Marius or even worse Enjolras! Before she went off to the bathroom Marius had given her a white box that contained a new dress, a nightgown, a pair of shoes and other stuff. The things had probably cost more than Èponine had ever earned and she was grateful for this act of friendship.

After closing the door behind her, Èponine started undressing herself already seeing the first bruises. She examined the stab wound at her shoulder and winced at the pain that shot through her. Her face was pale which defined the bruises and her cracked lip. At this point her thoughts wandered to Enjolras. He had been looking pale too, with circles under his eyes.

While she was having the bath she reflected on the passed incidents. She only remembered being carried into a flat, but she didn't know by whom. Than there had been pain and the warm hand holding hers and finally darkness had overcome her…

Enjolras had told her that Joly found her and brought her here, but Èponine somehow didn't believe that. There was no way Joly could have knocked out the National Guard alone. Joly wasn't a fighter and as far as she knew he didn't carry a weapon. She shook her head, something was wrong about this story. Enjolras concealed something from her, she just didn't know what and why.

Meanwhile Enjolras and Marius were arguing in the living room.

"I thought you were actually involved in her rescue? Joly told us you knocked the inspector out and carried her here…" Marius asked confused.

"That's true, but I didn't intend to tell her! Besides, it was Joly who really saved her life: He found her and stitched her up. I only helped a bit." Enjolras answered not looking Marius in the eye. He had seen Èponine's expression, when she had realised that it was actually him, who had kept her from falling, and he saw how uncomfortable she felt being at his flat. It had hurt him, even if he didn't want to admit it to himself. She would feel even worse, knowing that he had also saved her and carried her here. She wasn't that type of women that liked it to be carried around like puppy, Enjolras knew that. It was one thing he admired about her…

"Oh c'mon Enjolras, this is stupid! Joly said that he could have never helped her without you! He said that you calmed her down, while he was stitching her up and that you had been…"

"If you raise your voice even more, you can tell her directly what you know!" Now it was Enjolras turn to be angry "Believe me, I have my reasons, Marius, and they're none of your business".

Marius shook his head in disbelief "You know, I think sometimes you just enjoy playing the selfless hero too much, my friend" with that he left. Enjolras was incensed. He turned around and ran his hands through his hair. It was typical for Marius to leave when the situation just turned ticklish.

"What sort of reasons should that be?" a female voice made him jump out of his skin and in the corner of his eye he saw Èponine, now dressed in a slim-fitting, night-blue dress with long sleeves. Neither of the two men had noticed her entering the room and, when Marius left, Enjolras had been too distressed to notice her. Now Enjolras wondered how he could have missed her. Though her dark curls were still wet from the bath, she looked beautiful. He had always known that she was indeed not an unattractive woman, but he had never really looked at her. She was small and fragile. Her eyes were of a dark-brown colour and captured his gaze directly. Although her face was still bruised and her lip still cracked open, she had charismatic facial features.

Facial features, that right now looked at him with a confused and a bit irritable expression. He cleared his voice and looked her straight in the eye.

"I just figured that you might not be delighted by me being one of your saviours. Especially since you told me what you really think about me last night." Èponine bit her lip at his explanation. When she had heard Marius' and Enjolras' conversation, she had been angry and suspicious, ready to take Enjolras to task, but now she didn't know what to say. She couldn't judge him for making this decision, he had just wanted her to feel less uncomfortable and awkward.

"I guessed that you wouldn't have wanted to be seen in such a situation, especially not by someone you seem to be so disaffected with" Enjolras continued. Èponine wasn't sure if it was true hurt that signed Enjolras' face, or just his hurt pride.

"Well, you seem to know me very well" she hushed, being a bit stunned at how well he seemed to have read her though never paying much attention to her. The leader of the revolution knew each and every of his followers…

"No! If I knew you, I would have never questioned your abandonment to the revolution! I would have never questioned your intentions to fight at the barricade, the way I did last night. You were willing to get yourself killed in order to ensure the revolution's development and to safe the revolutionists' life. I had no right to judge you…" The words had been said before Enjolras had had enough time to think about them. He realised that they were the truth. He had always seen Èponine as Marius' shadow, and after letting him go a dead shell, without any motivation to live on, but the moment he saw her lying on the wet pavement, bleeding and bruised with her eyes closed and her innocent face so pale that she almost seemed like a fading ghost, he had realised that she must have had as much faith in the revolution as he had, because she would have given her life to it.

Now Èponine was sure that his lithic eyes showed signs of grief and pain. She was speechless, his words had been true and honest and she felt respect for the marble lover of liberty. If she had ever thought him selfish, this thought vanished from her mind now. There seemed to be more behind the cold man's mask than she had always expected.

"I… I think we both said things that were not appropriate this night. Maybe it would be better to let bygones be bygones and nothing more." She said approaching him not leaving much distance between them. He looked tired, with his hair even more messy than usually. Suddenly her gaze fell on his cracked lip and she felt guilt arising.

"And I'm truly sorry for losing control over my hand and temper" While saying this, Èponine felt her hand moving of its own volition, this time not to slap Enjolras but to touch his hurt lip. Shortly before her fingers touched his skin she realised what she was doing and pulled her hand back abruptly.

Enjolras saw her eyes focusing on his lip and he felt slightly uncomfortable. That was when he saw her hand wandering up as if she wanted to touch his face. Normally he would have slapped any woman's hand away, but something inside him kept him from interrupting her movement. Then she suddenly pulled her hand down and her expression changed from dreamy and absent to embarrassed. Her eyes searched for something to focus on and found his hurt hand, which he had bandaged.

"You shouldn't have put yourself in danger for me" she stated as if she was talking to herself and not to him. Enjolras didn't know what to say, for the first time in his life the words refused to form sentences in his mind. What should he tell her? That he had punched a brick wall after finding out that it was her, who had been assaulted and injured?

"Èponine, don't mention it. You should be more worried about your own health than mine. You should go and see Joly, so he can take a look at your shoulder." he finally said. Èponine looked in him again. She took his statement as a signal for her to leave and turned around.

"You're right" She said and started to walk towards the front door. She had almost reached it when she heard his voice from the other end of the room.

"I would do it again" she heard him say with solid voice. Èponine looked back at him and wasn't sure what he meant.

"What do you mean, Monsieur?" she asked shy, noticing that he was looking her straight in the eye, making it impossible for her to avoid his gaze.

"I would always put myself in danger for you again…" Enjolras didn't know where this had come from. Inside his head he punished himself for not controlling his tongue, but he saw something lightening up in Èponine's eyes, which he had not seen for a long time. He just couldn't define it…

**I'm sorry that you had to wait so long for this chapter! I hope you like it and that it was worth the wait… What do you think about Enjolras' and Èponine's confrontation? Is it too cheesy? Please tell me! (: **


	5. Chapter 5

**-Chapter 5-**

"I would do it again" Enjolras imitated his words in a sarcastic and ironic way as soon as Èponine had closed the front door behind her "I would always put myself in danger for you again…".

Enjolras banged his fist on the table and felt directly the acute pain shooting through his hand. He was mad at himself because he didn't know why he had said those words. It was one of those moments where he couldn't deny, no… Where he knew that people were led by their feelings.

Realizing the fact that the bandages around his hand crimsoned, he cursed and unwrapped his hand. Last night he hadn't felt the pain, but now he felt the punishment for not controlling his feelings. Below the fresh blood, which was covering his hand, the three lacerations on his knuckles had opened up again. He disquietingly threw away the old bandages and wrapped a new one around his hand. There was no time now, he had to tell the Les Amis that the police was trying to get inside information about them. One of them had already fallen victim to the National Guard and that was for sure enough.

….

Enjolras entered the café by dawn. The Les Amis had already arrived and they sat at a table in the corner of the room. Marius, Combeferre, Courfeyrac and Joly sat with their backs to him not noticing him entering the room while Grantaire and Èponine sat across them with their backs leaned against the wall, having a good view over the room. Èponine had tucked up her legs to her chest and her chin rested on her knees. Grantaire and the rest of the men were laughing about something and Èponine smiled slightly.

Before he had even reached the table, Enjolras heard a loud voice calling.

"So here comes our fearless leader!" It was Grantaire, who had now stood up to take an ironic bow, his face straight-faced. Giving his friend a gloomy look, Enjolras threw his books and notes on the table and sat down. He saw Èponine smiling and when Grantaire sat down beside her, he gave her an amused look, leaned back against the wall and took a mouthful of wine from his bottle.

"I need to talk to you. All of you…" Enjolras started "I'm sure Joly told you why Èponine was attacked?" everyone nodded except Èponine. She looked uncomfortable as if she didn't like it to be the conversation's main theme.

"We have to be careful from now on! Keep an eye out for spies in our ranks. We can't afford to lose any of our members. That includes keeping your mouths shut about your places of residence or others'! When the National Guard finds out any personal details about us, we are damned! Grantaire! Drunken people are easy targets and can't control their tongues! Especially you! So if I find you lying drunk in a street by night sleeping off your hangover, I will personally beat the alcohol from your blood!" Enjolras ended his small speech and saw his friends nodding.

"Enjolras is right. What they did to Èponine was horrible and the luck won't always be on our side and send Joly" Combeferre agreed "By the way, the two inspectors' bodies…"

"…are gone. I know, Marius told me today" Enjolras interrupted his friend.

"Well, the alley has also been cleaned. There are no signs of a fight and the blood has been wiped off the ground too." This time it was Joly, who had spoken "Do you think they survived?".

Enjolras looked a bit startled. "Excuse me Joly? Am I the student of medicine or are you?"

The young men turned around when the heard Èponine laughing. "Well, one of the inspectors is for sure dead." She said and looked at Enjolras, who remembered that one officer had already been knocked out by the time of their arrival at the scene.

"What did you do to him?" he asked, wondering how such a fragile gamine could kill a grown and armed man.

"If you break someone's nose the right way, the nose's bone is cracked up and pushed into the brain causing internal bleeding and brain-injuries" Èponine looked up from her hands, when everything went silent around the friends' table. All six men looked at her totally perplexed. Marius' and Courfeyrac's mouths were both standing open bearing resemblance to a fish. Combeferre and Joly looked at her with respect, they were both students of medicine and totally surprised about Èponine's knowledge about internal brain-bleedings and their deathly consequences.

But inside Enjolras' gaze was something despite all the astonishment, which surprised Èponine. Was it sympathy? She wasn't sure.

Her statement was unbiased, but still there was something wrong about it. A young woman shouldn't know that precisely how to kill in self-defence. Enjolras somehow felt sympathy arising. In contrast to the other boys, Enjolras understood that he wasn't talking to a girl, which knew so much about self-defence because she was interested in it, but rather because she was depending on it. How often had she been assaulted or attacked, that she had this expert knowledge?

The silence was broken by Grantaire "Well Èponine, I don't want to meet you on the street by night!"

Èponine chuckled "Oh chérie! You wouldn't be a challenge for me!"

Grantaire gave her a dig with the elbow and she suddenly yelped in pain.

"Damn it, Grantaire! Can't you be more careful! She's still injured!" Enjolras burst out, surprised about his sudden anger. Èponine looked a bit shocked too but assured that she was alright and that both men shouldn't worry. Grantaire was easily convinced but Enjolras still looked at her. The angry tension in his eyes still hadn't ceased.

The rest of the evening went on without any disruptions. Grantaire was now talking to a young woman, who was standing near the bar and he was buying her a drink. Entirely altruistic of cause!

Combeferre and Joly were discussing an essay, which they had to hand in until the end of the week. Marius and Courfeyrac were also intent upon their conversation about Marius' new life. Since the young man had married Cosette, his life had totally changed. To the better of cause! His Grandfather was supporting his marriage with the bourgeois Cosette and therefore he had started sponsoring Marius' life again. Right now Marius and Cosette were furnishing their new residence, a flat near Cosette's father's apartment in La Rue de L'Homme Arme.

Èponine didn't understand Cosette's request to stay as near to her father as possible. If Èponine had the chance to marry and start a new life… She would already be miles away, somewhere where her family would never find her. Especially her father…

Her father, who had sold his daughter's freedom to the National Guard for his own peace, left her that night all on her own and Èponine was sure that her father had been aware of the brutality, which the National Guard made use of, when they really wanted to force information out of people. But he didn't care, he never cared.

A sudden feeling of melancholy and despair filled her soul. Did anyone ever care? Her parents had forced her into the grey world she now lived in, they didn't love her, never had. Azelma was in prison, following her parents' path without thinking twice. Gavroche was gone; having died the death of a martyr he would be the only Thénardier worth remembering.

Marius had chosen Cosette, not even considering the fact that a gamine would be an option. Èponine had survived the barricade, but had she really wanted to live on? Deep inside Èponine was aware of the fact that she had chosen to die that day. But her unfair fate didn't even grant her a peaceful death that day. She had been so near to a peaceful death in Marius' arms. She had been ready, but fate was too cruel to let her escape from this life. And so she had survived, survived to find out that Gavroche died, survived to find out that Marius' world would have gone on turning, even if she had passed away.

From that moment on Èponine saw her life as a wasted one. Marius had been her only spark of hope for a long time and she had lost him. Not as a friend, but as a chance for a new life, which she had always dreamed of, but dreams were not dreams, if they came true…

But she had been able to hold on. She had tried to live as if nothing had happened, slowly she had been able to forget Marius and she had gotten used to the always present numbness, which had taken over her body. And yesterday night she had gotten another chance to die. And once again life didn't want to let her go, imprisoning her in this cruel reality, sending her two saviours, who ripped the comforting blackness away from her once again. Waking her from the restorative slumber, which would have lasted forever, if no one had found her. The sensation that she would never have to worry about her life again, the comfortable peace ripped away from her by two young students, who believed in the illusion that they could change her world and the world of many others, who suffered day by day from the Parisian street life. It seemed so clear to her now…

Èponine didn't realise which process she just finished in her mind. If she would have looked at it rationally, she might have realised that she mentally just made the decision to kill herself…

Enjolras tried to concentrate on the notes and books in front of him, but somehow he couldn't. The noise always distracted him and his gaze came to rest upon Èponine more often than it would usually have. She had a strange look in her eyes. Her chocolate brown eyes revealed how far away she was with her mind. Somewhere lost in her thoughts… Her face wasn't easy to read, it was closed up and it looked as if a veil covered her eyes. Enjolras had seen her like this more often after the barricade fell, but this time she reminded him of someone. He was combing through his brain, but didn't find the object, he thought, she resembled now.

It was that moment when she stood up. Slowly but determined… She didn't look at any of the boys and was about to approach the door when Enjolras spoke up "Èponine, where are you going?".

Èponine looked almost as if she was caught red-handed. Her eyes focused at him for a moment but then they turned numb again. "I just need to get some air, Monsieur. I didn't want to disturb you from your studies."

Enjolras nodded and she turned to leave. He didn't know her like that, normally her answer would have been snappy. Usually she would have questioned his right to be interested in her business, but right now it seemed as if all her strength had left her.

The blond revolutionist shook his head over Èponine's strange behavior, but he couldn't stop thinking about her. Minutes went by and suddenly Enjolras remembered where he had seen this strange expression in someone's eyes before.

About one year ago he had seen a young woman climbing over a bridge's guard rail. She had stood there some minutes looking down into the splashing water of the Seine. He had seen how an Inspector had tried to talk her out of this madness but she had made her decision and no one had been able to safe her….

The second he remembered the suicidal girl he stormed out of the café. There was no time!

….

The wind was playing with her long hair as she was sitting on the bridge's guard rail. Fortunately the streets were dark and empty and the silvery moonlight reflected on the water surface. Èponine heard the dark water sweeping underneath her. Its sound was calming her down. Since she left the café she hadn't been able to think clearly, but now it all made sense. It would be just one small step, a short moment of falling and then she could let go…

If someone would have asked her right now, she would have never admitted herself being suicidal. In Èponine's vision '_suicidal_' meant that someone wanted to die. She didn't want to die; she just wanted the pain and suffering to stop! No one could judge her for that!

For a minute she thought about the aftereffects, which her death would bring with it. She would be announced as missing. And of cause Marius and maybe even the other men from the Les Amis de L'ABC might miss her, at least a bit. But her absence wouldn't leave a too grand gap within their web of friendship. At least she thought so… Maybe someone would one day discover her corpse floating in the water, but she hoped that until that day her friends had already forgotten her. She didn't want them to know... It wouldn't be good for them.

Èponine didn't even notice that she was crying silent tears. '_Come on Èponine. Don't be such a girly. Gavroche was a child and didn't fear the death! If he was capable of taking two gunshots, you can let go of this guard rail now!_' she thought.

Closing her eyes she took one deep breath and let go. She felt herself falling and as she broke through the water surface the cold hit her body.

The cold water broke into her lungs and tried to take her breath. Against her will her body started fighting against the feeling of being pulled deeper and deeper under the water surface. It felt like her body and her mind were two different fighters. Her body was trying to survive whatever price it would take, but her mind had already shut down. The cold had closed her eyes as she felt the numbness overtaking her body, preventing her body from moving, telling her arms to stop the forlorn fight…

Èponine hoped that the suffering would soon be over, her lungs hurt like hell. Her body was trembling from the cold water and she felt dizzy…

That was when something clutched her wrist. It was an iron grip, which didn't let go of her, and she realised that it was a hand. She felt another hand gripping her waist to get a better hold on her body so that the water couldn't free her from the grip.

Then blackness released her from her suffering…

**Well, that was a tragic chapter! I still hope you like it, because I thought about it for a long time… **

**I also wanted to thank you all. Due to the fact that this story can be found in both fandoms (plays and books), I realised that about 33 people are following this story and it makes me so happy to know that there are people reading each of my chapters.**

**I hope for some reviews and feedback! I'm quite aware of the fact that I have some really long internal monologues in this chapter. Is it too much? I'm not quite sure… Until next time! **


	6. Chapter 6

**-****Chapter 6****-**

"Èponine! No!" Enjolras shouted but it was already too late. The young woman had jumped before he had been able to reach her. He leaned over the guard rail and saw the water rippling, where Èponine had broken through the water surface.

"Merde!" he cursed and climbed over the guard rail. Without thinking he jumped into the blackness of the Seine. For a moment he felt the cold water on his skin but the adrenalin took advantage of him quickly. He dove deeper and deeper because he knew that the Seine would pull Èponine down into her dark depth if she didn't fight against it. And if Èponine didn't fight for herself, he would fight for her! Whatever it would take…

With every second of his vainly rescue attempt he ran even more scared. Somehow he knew that there was something deep inside him that was fascinated by that girl. She couldn't die! He wouldn't let her, not without an explanation!

Cursing the minimal visibility of the dark and dangerous water he felt his longing for air becoming more intense. Suddenly he felt something gliding through his fingers. His grip closed around it and relief overwhelmed him. It was a hand…

With all its strength the water tried to rip her away from him but he held on to her as if his life depended on it. Getting hold of her waist he pulled her into him and swam towards the water surface as fast as possible. Although his legs hurt from fighting the rising current and its brutal strength, he managed to reach the water surface.

He pulled Éponine overwater and swam towards a lithic pier. His lungs were screaming in protest when he breathed in the cold air. Carefully he tried to hold Éponine's face overwater but fear took advantage of him, when he realised that she was not responding to any of his actions.

Her body was completely limp; ready to be taken away by the river if he didn't hold on to her. Calling her name he hauled them both on the pier so that she was at least out of the deathly water.

She was pale, her eyes were closed and her dress clung to her fragile body.

"Èponine! Come on! Wake up now!" he shouted and shook her limp body, but at first she didn't react. Than her body was suddenly shaken by terrible coughs and water was dribbling from her mouth; her eyes opened and widened in shock when she tried to breath but realised that the water was blocking her respiratory system.

Relief overwhelmed Enjolras while he helped the young woman roll onto her side. She was alive!

He saw tears streaming down her cheeks while she was coughing and spitting out water, slowly regaining control over her lungs again.

When she was finished coughing up water he cupped her face in his hands and made her meet his gaze.

"Èponine, what were you thinking?" Enjolras called out. Now that he was sure that she was fine the anger outweighed his feeling of relief. Èponine freed herself from his grip and avoided his gaze.

"What I was thinking is none of your business! What were you doing here anyway?" she finally snapped her voice hoarse from the water.

"Well, what do you think was I doing? I was trying to prevent you from committing suicide!" Enjolras knew that screaming at a person, who had just tried to commit suicide, wasn't the best thing someone could do in his position, but at some point even the marble man couldn't control his feelings.

"I don't think that this is your decision to make, is it? This is my life and if I decide to put an end to it, you don't have any right to intervene!" Èponine cried.

"Oh Mademoiselle! I think I have every right to intervene, because just one night ago I put myself in danger to save the life, which you just wanted to throw away!" Enjolras couldn't help but raise his voice.

"I already told you that you should have never put yourself in danger for me! I'm not worth it! I never wanted you to rescue me that night and I for sure didn't ask you to jump after me into this bloody river!" she watched him getting to his feet and this time she didn't avoid the angry gaze, which he gave her. She managed to stand up too, although she was shaking and trembling from the cold water. Her body still felt numb and she needed all her strength and concentration to not slump down again.

Enjolras examined the young gamine in front of him. She was glaring at him in defiance, but he saw how weak she was. Her body had already been enervated by her injuries and in general her conditions of living, but now the water hat drained everything from her.

"So I should have just let you jump? Is that what you want?" his voice was softer now but still determined "You can't demand this from me!". It was this moment, where Èponine's façade started to crumble. She bit her lip and the tears clouded her view so she looked down on the ground.

She didn't want him to see her like this. A picture of misery on the verge of falling into everlasting blackness. She began to totter, not being able to bear her feelings down. It was just too much.

Enjolras saw her trembling and he didn't need any psychological precognition to know that she would break down every second. He caught her before she sank to ground again and against his expectancy she responded to his touch. She let him pull her into him and held on to him, while she was crying silently. He stroked her hair and rested his chin on her head.

Èponine didn't know what to think. Her anger and sorrow subsided within some seconds and something else took hold of her soul. She felt save, saver than she ever had. She knew that whatever happened now, he would be there holding her, defending her… Usually Èponine would have shoved him away, telling him that she didn't need his pity, but the way he caressed her hair and his steady breathing calmed her down and she realised how tired she was.

Shortly after she had calmed down, her legs seemed to faint more and more due to the exhaustion from her fight against her feelings and the water. Without hesitating Enjolras lifted her up. At first he thought she would complain but then he noticed that her head leaned against his shoulder and that her one hand still held on his drenched, white shirt tightly. Not sure if she was asleep or if she was just exhausted he carefully squeezed her reassuringly and started carrying her through the streets of Paris. It looked like his bed would be taken yet another night…

**Honestly, I don't like this chapter. I still hope that you enjoy reading it. Please review! **

**The main plot will start in the next chapter therefore it may take some time until I'll be able to upload! I beg your pardon in advance and hope that it won't be a problem.**

**Until next time!**


	7. Chapter 7

**-Chapter 7-**

Suicide…

Enjolras looked down on the sleeping girl, who was curled up on his lap. When they had entered his flat she was sleeping soundly and he didn't have the heart to wake her up. So he had just sat down on his sofa with her in his arms. He knew that Joly would have probably killed him for not changing into dry clothes, but he didn't feel cold. He felt comfortable with her save in his arms…

Èponine's head rested against his chest and he felt her breath slightly tickling the skin of his throat. She looked so peacefully and Enjolras always had to remember himself that sleep was probably the only peaceful thing she had experienced in her life.

He couldn't deny that he himself had thought of suicide once or twice shortly after his friends had sacrificed their lives back at the barricade. The pressure of their deaths' weight had sometimes been too much, but he could have never killed himself. He saw life as a gift, which he didn't want to waste. He wanted to prove his friends that they didn't die for nothing.

But for Èponine life wasn't a gift. She had been disappointed in every way: family, love, education, wealth… Pain was her never sleeping attender. And now with Gavroche dead, life was even less worth living, because every night he returned in her dreams and died again and again.

But this night it was different. Her sleep was soft and free of nightmares.

Enjolras unconsciously brushed his fingers over her hair, which was still a bit wet. It felt soft under his touch and he felt the urge to run his fingers through her long curls. Resisting the urge he leaned back and wondered why he suddenly felt so strange. It was an odd kind of happiness that spread through his body and filled every part of him. He had never been that close to a woman and against his will he had to admit that it aroused a strange feeling of desire deep inside of him. Something he had never experienced before made its way to his heart's surface.

. . . .

Èponine felt the sun warming her body and leaned closer to the person holding her. Sleep was still dulling her mind and it needed some time until realisation kicked in. Who should hold her? She didn't have anyone…

She blinked through the sunlight and her eyes widened when she saw his soundly sleeping body. Handsome features, blonde, wavy curls and even asleep he radiated an aura of pride and confidence. The second Èponine realised what was going on she shrieked away almost falling to the ground.

Enjolras tensed and opened his eyes. He realised the situation within a second and stood up trying to help her steady herself, but she pushed him away.

"What… What happened? Why am I…" she tried to verbalise the situation but failed with distinction. She had totally no idea how she ended up at his flat and more important in his arms sleeping!

"I caught you yesterday night when you were trying to take your life" his words were unadorned and hit her with a painful force. Memories from last night reached the surface of her mind and she directly felt hurt and embarrassed. He had seen her in her weakest moment, what was he thinking of her now?

She turned around not able to face him anymore. She needed time, space and a place to think. Why had he saved her? Was she actually happy that he had saved her?

"Mademoiselle?" he started but an angry snort from Èponine silenced him.

"When will you finally stop this?" she snapped, still embarrassed. She turned to face him and saw a trace of incomprehension flashing up in his cold eyes.

"Stop what?" he asked observing her attentively.

"Calling me _Mademoiselle_. You know as well as I that I'm no Mademoiselle and that living an illusion won't help on". Her voice was angry but Enjolras noticed that it was also signed by grief.

"Maybe you should stop thinking so little of yourself! And by the way, in my opinion _Mademoiselle_ is not a title for a higher social class, but rather a form of address that applies to every woman".

His words caught her off guard and she didn't know what to say. A discussion with Enjolras about equality was totally not what she needed right now. She wasn't spoiling for a fight with him and after last night's incident he probably believed her to be a lunatic.

"Whatever…" she murmured nearly not audible and turned around to leave the flat, but when she was about to open the door she felt a hand on her shoulder turning her around.

Enjolras had stepped towards her and was facing her now with an expression she couldn't define. She felt her back hitting the door and saw that she was trapped in between his arms, which were leaning against the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" he said and there was something in his eyes that daunted her. The uncomfortable feeling of being trapped crawled up her stomach. On the streets she had learned that she must never let herself be trapped with her back against a wall. It lowered the chance of escaping and with it the probability of survival.

Determined to stand her ground she straightened up to her full size. "I don't think my plans are your business, Monsieur!"

Enjolras clenched his jaw. By now he had realised, that something about her was inviolable and it shielded her from the world, leaving her left alone with her feelings. "I'd call it my business, because I have saved your life two times over the past two days and I don't want my efforts on protecting you to be all in vain."

Èponine didn't know where to look but she decided that avoiding his stern gaze would make it seem as if she admitted weakness. "Don't let protection turn into possession, Monsieur".

A small smile played on his lips but it had faded as fast as it had appeared. The distance between their heads had withered until it would have only taken some inches for their skins to touch.

"And how do I know that you won't just run of and throw yourself from the next bridge?" his breath tickled on the skin of her cheek sending shivers down her spine. She caught her breath feeling her heart beat faster at the lack of distance between them. Maybe it had been a mistake to look him in the eye, because those blue, nearly grey eyes were now captivating her. Some seconds passed and she realised that his face was no more signed by anger, arrogance, insensibility, mistrust or any of the other emotions, which she was used seeing on his face. Right now he looked as though he was calculating something, not sure what to do or if he should do whatever was going through his mind.

"I guess you just have to trust me… As much as I have to trust you to remain silent about last night. I wouldn't want the others to worry about me." Èponine mentally slapped herself for letting him distract her from thinking clearly.

Enjolras let out a sarcastic and small laugh. "What is this Èponine? An extortion? A contract? You live as long as I stay silent? Do you really care so little about your life that you are willing to give me full charge and control about it?"

"You don't understand! My pride, my independency, my reputation, my free will… Those were the only things I have been able to depend on in my life, because those are the only things I have had control about. So if you look at it closely, I don't give up control about my life because I have never had control about it! So actually it is me, who should feel trapped now, because my reputation is at stake now and one single word of you could take it away from me forever!" Èponine didn't know why she gave him such insight knowledge about her way of thinking, her way of living, and her way of feeling. Maybe because he had already seen too much?

"Significant words for a woman, who acts as if she had nothing left to live and fight for…" Enjolras aspirated. His voice nothing more than a breeze; a chill breath caressing her skin. "I guess that's something we both have in common. We are both willing to die for our free will and independency."

Although Èponine was stunned by his behaviour, she couldn't help but chuckle ironically at his words. "Yes, the only difference between us is that I never chose to make life a minor priority. You willingly chose to start building barricades and die while defending them. So who of us is rather suicidal?"

"It would be a shame to steal your independency from you, Mademoiselle. And that also goes for your sharp tongue." He paused a view seconds staying that close to her. Èponine realised that his eyes were no more locked on hers but rather on her lips. She could see his brain working behind his proud eyes as though he was fighting a fight with himself, not sure which side of him would win. He drew closer and she was about to protest but something inside her told her to relax. That man in front of her was Enjolras, it was doubtful that his intentions were the ones she thought them to be_. You spend too much time on the streets Èponine_, she told herself_, a man of Enjolras' status would never look at you this way. Marius is the living proof! _

Then he suddenly let go of her and turned around. Messing his hair up even more by running his fingers through the blond curls he avoided her gaze. After some seconds filled with uncomfortable silence Èponine cleared her throat.

"I think I should leave now." She said. She turned around and opened the door, not daring to look him in the eye. Her mind was nearly exploding at the attempt of defining what just happened. Or better: nearly happened.

"Èponine…" his voice was stern again "Stay away from bridges. I mean it…".

Èponine didn't turn around neither did she answer him. She knew that it was a big step for him to let her go. He loved to control situations, to fix things… And now he had just given up charge about this situation.

She smiled to herself. Maybe he had learned that he couldn't fix her, maybe he had learned to trust her; Èponine didn't know. All she knew was that she trusted him, which was something she rarely did…

**Hello guys,**

**Sorry for the long wait, but the last weeks have been pretty stressful. I'm not proud of this chapter…**

**I hope you enjoy reading anyway! **


	8. Chapter 8

**-Chapter 8-**

The situation in Paris grew more acute in time. October had turned into November and it was getting colder and colder. The temperature fell and with it the probability of survival for the poor. Èponine was used to every winter being a new challenge, but she had a feeling that this winter would be worse than the others.

Enjolras' and her discussion had left them with an unspoken bondage. He had kept his word and remained silent about her suicide attempt. The fact that Èponine was still alive confirmed Enjolras that he could trust her, although he noticed the fresh scars on her arms that she was trying to hide under the black coat, which he had given to her as the nights started to turn cold.

After noticing them Enjolras had asked Combeferre about self-harm, hoping that he might know how to deal with it due to his medical studies. Though Enjolras didn't mention Èponine in any way Combeferre's sympathetic facial expression told him that he had also noticed. It was one of the many things Enjolras liked about Combeferre: He noticed things that no one would ever pay attention to. That was the reason why Enjolras had chosen to talk to him instead of Joly. Joly would have not understood the sensibility of this situation, he would have been so worried about the scars getting infected that he would have totally forgotten about Èponine's privacy and her decision to hide them.

And so it had also been Combeferre, who noticed that there was something undefinable between his best friend and the waif. It wasn't comparable to a real friendship but rather to a bondage or mutual understanding.

Normally there was always a mistrusting, disaffected tension between them, because she thought him a naïve, bourgeois student and he thought her… Well, it had always been difficult to find out what Enjolras was actually thinking. Combeferre knew that his friend had never disliked the street girl, but her behaviour towards Marius had always been incomprehensible to him. Combeferre always had the anticipation that Enjolras was not quite sure where to put Èponine. And as it was part of Enjolras' character to avoid things he couldn't get a hold on, he had just tried to avoid her.

But taking a closer look at it, it had all changed. They were actually capable of talking to each other without starting an argument. He didn't lose it every single time Èponine questioned his strategies concerning the revolution and she actually saw him as a man and not just as the revolutionary leader. To Combeferre it seemed as if they were on the same level now.

"So, you also noticed it?" Combeferre said when Enjolras asked him about self-harm.

"Noticed what?" The blond revolutionary asked as a weak attempt to not drive the conversation away from Èponine.

"Don't take me for a fool, mon ami. I know how observant you are and Èponine's cuts are for sure something you wouldn't miss" At those words Enjolras sighed in defeat.

"You know me too well, 'Ferre", he said running his fingers through his locks. A clear sign that he was nervous, "So, what do you think? Will it-".

"Lead to suicide?" Combeferre interrupted him. "I'm not sure. I'm a medic not a psychologist, but I think in Èponine's case it is post-traumatic. We all know that she tries to sort out her feelings on her own, but some things can't be sort out alone. Marius married Cosette in order to deal with the barricade's losses. Grantaire is into drinking again and the rest of us were supporting each other while going through the pain of losing our friends. Èponine never talked to anyone about the uprising, she tried to escape her feelings and they might haunt her down now."

"Sounds plausible. Besides we only lost our friends. She lost her brother, a person she felt responsible for". Enjolras stated nodding at Combeferre's words.

"Oui, and in my opinion it is actually a miracle that she made it until now without hurting herself. Joly and I noticed that self-harm is very common on the streets. Such a life destroys you in time and even our Èponine can't run from that fate forever, as sad as it is" Silence followed Combeferre's words for a moment and both men were lost in their thoughts.

Enjolras couldn't help but think of the young girl that had fallen in love with Marius. She had been poor, but her eyes had been sparkling with happiness and vitality. And finally Enjolras realised why she had been so blind, why she had been so forgiving every time that Marius unconsciously broke her heart: She had tried to hold onto her illusion as long as possible. Èponine hadn't loved Marius but rather the thought of him. It was a thought, an illusion, which had kept her alive. The simple thought of being loved, seen and cared about. She was the living proof that hope could keep one alive…

. . . .

Èponine wasn't sure if Enjolras had noticed the scars on her arms. Yet she knew that this man alone had figured out that she was suicidal, he had seen through her, which was something no one had ever succeeded in. Èponine couldn't deny that there was something special about him. He was so closed up yet he still managed to observe his environment attentively. His ability to observe, analyse and interpret a situation faultlessly was probably the reason why he had become a revolutionary.

"Èponine!? What are you doing here? We are waiting for you." Èponine jumped when she heard Courfeyrac's voice behind her. It was Friday evening and the Les Amis de l'ABC had planned a meeting tonight. She didn't have time to answer; Courfeyrac already took her by the hand like a gentleman and led her to the back room where the rest of the revolutionary organisation was already gathered.

Everyone greeted her and Èponine's eyes wandered to Enjolras, who seemed to be searching for something in the mess of books, notes, papers and pocketbooks. She didn't know if she was imagining things but she could have sworn that his gaze lingered a little longer on Courfeyrac's and her linked hand. Freeing her hand from Courfeyrac's grip she waited for him to look her in the eye.

She dropped a curtsy towards him with an ironic smile playing on her lips. "Excuse my late arrival Monsieur. I didn't mean to disturb your meeting".

"I never accused you of such intention, Èponine" the blonde leader answered placing emphasis on her name and offering her the chair next to him. Èponine was rather surprised at this token gesture but didn't hesitate to sit down next to him.

"Did Enjolras just offer a female human-being a seat?" Marius asked rhetorically while poking Grantaire jokingly with his elbow. "I never thought he actually noticed that there is a female member of the Amis!"

Grantaire grinned boldly, but didn't say anything knowing that an argument between Enjolras and Marius was something too funny to interrupt.

"It may surprise you, Marius, but there are some people, who are a little bit more decent than you when it comes to dealing with females. The fact that you needed Èponine to send your beloved letters actually shows that it is you, who is not used to associate with women. Or it shows that you don't have the guts…" Enjolras comment sent Grantaire bursting out in laughter.

While Marius' cheeks turned all red, Enjolras didn't even look up to him. He was still as motionless and casual as always.

"But you can't deny the fact that it's me, who is married, and not you!" It was highly visible that Marius' pride was the one hurt now.

"As much as getting married seems to be your only priority, I have to admit that it is as well sadly the only thing succeeding in your life. I am personally not sure if that is something you should boast about". Enjolras looked up from his notes and gave Marius a short glance before turning to face the others. "But that is not why I summoned a meeting! There are more important things to discuss than Marius' and my love life…"

"And those would be?" Courfeyrac asked looking up disappointedly from the heap of cards, which had been a house of cards before Enjolras' action had caused the table to shake and the house of cards to collapse.

"Our future actions and plans! How do we proceed with our revolution now that the National Guard is on our tracks? I can only speak for myself, but I won't let the National Guard shut my mouth. What they did to Èponine only demonstrates that injustice is ruling our every life!" Silence followed Enjolras words and the cheerful sereneness died down.

It was indeed a problem for the les Amis. If they remained silent about their revolution they would just do what the National Guard wanted. If they stood up for their cause it would only be a matter of time until one of them was threatened again. So the actual question was: Give up on active rebellion or die for the cause…

It was the same question, which they already had to solve out months ago before the uprising. The only difference was that they had been naïve back then.

When Enjolras continued his speech he examined each and every of his friends with numb eyes.

"But fact is: I live this revolution, you live your lives. Marius, you are married; Joly, Musichetta has already lost Bossuet…" before Enjolras could continue he was interrupted by Joly.

"Wait, are you trying to argue us out of the revolution?!" Joly enunciated what everyone else thought. Grantaire had actually put the bottle down, and Marius stopped playing with his wedding ring. Combeferre simply shook his head in disbelief.

"That is for sure not my intention! But I was responsible for the death of our friends; I won't make this mistake again. I realised that leading his people into war isn't what a good leader should do. I was supposed to look after you during this revolution and I failed you all. I want you to overthink the situation, because you all know now that the reality of a revolution is a lot less shining and honourable than we all expected it five months ago!"

If Èponine had thought Enjolras to be out of marble, this assumption proved itself wrong right now. She had never seen him talk emotional about the June Rebellion, but here he stood revealing feelings of grief and remorse.

"Enjolras, no one here makes you responsible for what happened… When we joined the revolution we all knew that in case of doubt death would await us!" Combeferre put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "And I think I can speak for all of us when I say that we will follow the path of freedom, even if it leads us to death." Everyone around the table nodded and agreed, even Grantaire joined them.

"Then it is settled" Enjolras said and for a short moment he caught Èponine's eye as if waiting for an answer. She nodded and gave him a small smile. He had stood up for her and had protected her, now she would stand up for his dream. And not only for his dream, but also for Gavroche's. A small part of her finally understood why Gavroche had always admired Enjolras. He cared for his friends, even if he hid his feelings under the mask of marble. She just didn't know if she could count herself to them.

Around Éponine the cheerful atmosphere once again took over and with every mouthful wine the students' euphoria diffused. The others didn't notice Enjolras leaving the room and neither did they notice Èponine following him.

. . . .

Enjolras couldn't bear his friends' cheerful talking and euphoric planning of future events. Not this evening. It reminded him too much of himself five months ago, when he had convinced them to join him. He was once as euphoric as they were, but the pressure of the responsibility for his friends' life and therefore also deaths had changed him. He was still determined to die for equality, but he didn't want his friends to follow him.

He left the Musain through the backdoor and tried to calm himself down by breathing in and out deeply, yet the cold air wasn't enough to banish the feeling of guilt and the new rising weigh of responsibility from his body and soul. He untied his cravat, suddenly feeling trapped and corded up.

Without thinking he hit the wall with his fist not unlike to the night where he had rescued Èponine. Pain shot through his hand when his knuckles made contact with the cold stone a second time and he knew that his hand was once again bleeding with his knuckles splintered open. Still he didn't stop until suddenly a fragile body shoved itself between him and the wall.

Had it not been for his good reflexes he would have hit the girl straight into the face but before his fist met her skin he paused and while breathing heavily he tried to retain his composure but failed.

Èponine didn't bat an eyelid when his fist dashed against the wall only inches away from her face. She knew that he would not hurt her, not even now where he seemed to have lost control about his feelings. She had noticed that something wasn't right when he had left the room. There had been something in his eyes telling her that he was struggling with himself.

And here he was, trying to sort out things alone as he always did. It hurt her to see him this way, panting for air, pale and sweaty. His blonde curls messed up and blue eyes unfocused. His cravat was hanging loosely from his neck and Èponine saw him trembling.

She slowly raised her hand and reached out for his hand. Enjolras didn't move when her soft fingers touched his hurting hand. He tried to avoid her gaze but her dark, nearly black eyes gave him no chance, or maybe he didn't want to avoid her...

She looked down on his bleeding hand, not caring that her fingers were also wet from his blood.

"Èponine, you shouldn't have intervened… I almost hurt you!" Enjolras broke the silence and couldn't keep himself from admiring the girl's courage. He was taken aback when she suddenly smiled sadly but caring.

"Rather hurt me than yourself, Enjolras. There's no need to waste your health. While I'm already shattered-" she wanted to continue but stopped when Enjolras' hurt hand suddenly turned in hers and gripped her wrist. Before she could step back he had rolled up the sleeve of her coat and revealed the red gashed on her inner forearm.

"Yet you continue hurting yourself over and over again… " he whispered and caressed the cuts with his thumb slightly. At first she wanted to draw back but his soft touch convinced her to remain in this position.

"Is there actually anything you don't notice?" she asked trying not to flinch when his thumb touched one of the fresher cuts.

"Well, I admit that you hid them pretty well, but some things aren't made to be hidden. Besides, I take care of my friends…" Now his gaze was fixed on her eyes again. Èponine hoped that he wouldn't see her blush but she knew that the chances were low. Was there actually anything this man didn't notice?

Her heart jumped at the thought of him appreciating her as a friend. She would have never thought that someone like Enjolras would actually notice her.

Èponine felt her hand moving of its own volition and put it up to rest against his cheek. Against her expectations he didn't flinch nor did he react in any other dismissive way. Maybe she was imagining things but it seems as if he actually leaned into her touch.

"I know you do… But who takes care of you, Monsieur? Don't let the pressure of grief and guilt destroy you! What happened back at the barricades wasn't your fault. You gave those men something to fight for, something they were willing to sacrifice themselves for. But it was their decision to join the fight! Remember the song: _Will you give all you can give so that our banner may advance? Some will fall and some will live, will you stand up and take your chance?_ Enjolras, they took their chance and now their blood waters the meadows of France. Now it is up to us that they didn't die for nothing!" his eyes rested on hers while she spoke and after finishing her small speech it was silent for wile.

Then he smiled slightly "Who would have thought that Èponine Thénardier was such a good orator?" she gave him a small melodic laugh and countered: "Who would have thought that the marmoreal Enjolras actually has feelings?"

"Yes, who would have thought…" Enjolras answered and Èponine wasn't sure if he was truly wondering about the existence of his feelings. She moved her hand from his cheek to his neck and let it remain there before taking off the black cravat, which still loosely hang from his neck.

Breaking away from his incredibly blue eyes, she wrapped the cravat around his still bleeding trying not to hurt him even more. He observed her while she used his cravat as a bandage to stop the bleeding and couldn't keep himself noticing how beautiful she was.

Yes, the streets had left their marks on her but those experiences made her to who she was now. How was it possible that poverty, fortune, abuse and inequity could form such a characteristic and in his eyes incredibly adorable, young woman?

"Tend to the wound, Monsieur. Go home and heal…" she said and he felt her grip fade from his bandaged hand. He knew that she not only meant his physical wounds, but also his emotional ones.

"Who will tend to your wounds, Èponine? Where will you go to heal?" he asked not wanting her to leave. She was already a few steps away when she paused. Why did he care so much? Could it be that she actually meant something to him?

"I never had anyone looking after me and tending to my wounds, Monsieur. No one ever cared enough." Her voice wasn't sad but rather resigned and tired. Tired of wasting all her energy for healing, because Èponine couldn't remember a time when she wasn't either mentally or physically hurt.

She suddenly noticed a movement from behind her and before she could turn around she felt his grip around her wrist, turning her around to face him.

"There is always a first time, Èponine…" he said very determined and in the next second Èponine felt his lips on top of hers. She gasped totally taken aback by his actions, but she found herself kissing him back automatically. He pulled her closer stroking her cheek with his bandaged hand while her fingers tangled in his hair. His other hand let go of her wrist and she felt his arm tighten around her waist, she liked the feeling of his chest against hers and his warmth devolved to her.

Enjolras didn't know what triggered his sudden desire for kissing her, all he knew was that it felt right and for the first time in his life Enjolras listened to his heart and not to his head.

**Thanks to all the reviews I received for my last chapter! I was so happy that you liked it! I hope that this chapter pleases you all and now the real storyline actually begins and there are lots of things that I am looking forward to writing!**

**To **_Lapiz Lazuli Luna_**: I know that I promised to reveal how Èponine survived the June Revolution and escaped from the barricades. I will explain this in one of the upcoming chapters. I'm sorry, but it just didn't really fit into this one. Thanks for your lovely review again, I hope you liked this chapter!**

**Have fun reading and I hope that I'll be able to upload soon!**


	9. Chapter 9

**-Chapter 9-**

"Enjolras! Are you even listening to me?!" Enjolras snapped out of his thoughts as Courfeyrac's hand started waving in front of his face. Irritated he looked up from his book and finally concentrated his attention on his friend.

"I'm sorry, I was too immersed in my studies" he apologised and followed Courfeyrac's gaze. His friend was staring at Èponine, who was in the middle of a conversation with Combeferre and Grantaire, who was notably sober mentioning that it was Saturday afternoon.

"I said that Èponine's mood has lightened up over the past days, don't you think?" Courfeyrac was right with his statement. Èponine seemed happier than she had been since the Rebellion. Of cause her eyes were still too serious for those of a young woman, but Enjolras couldn't hold that against her. Who knew what horrors she had already seen or even endured in her young life?

It was this gravity in her appearance, which attracted him. She wasn't as naïve as other girls he knew. She was the living proof that intelligence couldn't be bought and that intelligence was much more attractive than nice clothes and heavy-makeup. On the contrary: Enjolras had experienced that heavy-makeup was mostly used to cover lack of intelligence up.

He had actually only met four women, who weren't as shallow, perfunctory and dumb as the bigger part of the female French population. And those four were Musichetta, Èponine, Cosette and of cause is little sister Geneviève.

Suddenly Courfeyrac snatched the book out of his hands and closed it to read the title printed on the book cover.

"Pride and Prejudice?! That doesn't sound like law studies to me! Since when are you interested in romance novels? I mean, we're talking of you Enjolras, a man with a waving French Flag set where a normal man's beating heart is set!" Courfeyrac stated with an ironic, but warm smile.

Enjolras rolled his eyes at his friend's comment. "Geneviève mentioned the book in one of her letters and I promised her to read it. You know how determined Gen can become when it comes to literature." He fetched back the book, opened it and tried to find the right page again. "Besides, Gen said that the protagonist was very emancipated and I have to admit that the book demonstrates the drastic outcomes that discrimination of women brings about. The society deprives women of their right to vote, their right of inheritance. If women would be entitled to inherit, they would no longer have to marry against their will. That shows that our society forces woman through deprivation of human rights into an inability to act out of free will! The fact that marriage is still not class-independent-"

"Ok, enough, enough! It's too early for discussions like that… But it definitely sounds like a book Evie would enjoy reading!" Courfeyrac cut him off.

Enjolras flinched at the sound of Courfeyrac's pet name for his younger sister. Gen never liked pet names, he as her elder brother and Grantaire had always been the only ones who were allowed to call her by a pet name. But since her last visit in Paris he had the feeling that he wasn't the only one who had permanent contact with her through letters. And it seemed that he was also not the only one anymore who was allowed to call her by a pet name.

Geneviève was three years younger than him and Enjolras still remembered the day their parents had sent her to a private Boarding School, because their mother had been tired of arguing with her. Geneviève had always represented women's rights and that was something their parents didn't accept.

Enjolras also remembered the day Geneviève had been expelled from Boarding School because she had started provoking the teachers with the statement: _I don't want to be forced into a puppet girl whose strings are in someone else's hands__._ The great thing about his sister was that she was so intelligent that arguing with her was almost impossible. This was also the reason why the relationship between their parents and Geneviève had always been tense. His father didn't like it when younger people were more intelligent than him especially when they were females, who should in his opinion just keep their mouths shut and look pretty. It seemed as if Enjolras senior didn't have much luck with his children because neither of them did support his political opinion.

That night when Geneviève returned home after being expelled, her father had lost control about his temper. Enjolras had heard the loud argument between his parents and his sister but he had never seen his father so enraged. He entered the living room just in time to see his father hitting Geneviève across the face and Geneviève falling to the ground with a cracked, bleeding lip After that incident both siblings decided that they couldn't live with their parents anymore. Enjolras had never really respected his father due to his political position, but the moment his father had turned violent, Enjolras had lost all his affection and respect for the man who had raised him. Geneviève had moved in with some friends in Lyon and worked as a highly sought-after seamstress. Soon she would be financially independent enough to occupy her own flat. Enjolras had never been more proud of someone and the memory of his sister made him smile slightly.

"How would you know what Geneviève enjoys reading?" Enjolras asked, emphasising his sister's name.

"Well, when I met her the last time she visited, she seemed truly emancipated and-"

"Who is truly emancipated?" Èponine's voice rang out from behind them. Enjolras tried to concentrate on his book again instead of Èponine. They hadn't talked about the kiss they had shared two nights ago. After ending the kiss she had assured him that she would be fine and he had known better than to patronise her. So he had let her leave to wherever she would find sleep.

He decided that it would be impolite to just continue reading and not take part in the conversation. He closed the book again and looked Èponine in the eye, waiting for a sign of accusation, because he had avoided her the past two days, but he found none.

"We're talking of Enjolras' younger sister" answered Courfeyrac and Èponine's eyes flashed up with amazement. She didn't know that Enjolras had a sister, but thinking of it closely it wasn't that surprising. It would explain the amount of letters, which he wrote every week and it somehow fitted to him.

"You never told me you had a sister?" she said and smiled at him, but before he could reply something Grantaire raised his voice.

"Well, he has! And I have to admit that, if she weren't his sister and if I hadn't seen her grow up, I would have already laid her!" Grantaire's comment made Combeferre and Èponine laugh out loud, while Courfeyrac looked less amused and Enjolras gave Grantaire a look that, if looks could kill, would have sent Grantaire to his grave.

"I doubt that Evie would make out with a drunkard like you! She is not as simple-minded as the other girls you have had!" To everyone's surprise it was Courfeyrac, who said this and not Enjolras, but Enjolras nodded in agreement: "Thank you for noticing and mentioning that, Courfeyrac. And next time Grantaire says something like that you are allowed to punch him in the face!" he added silently.

Èponine couldn't help but smile. "Well, but honestly, what is she like?" she asked?

"Ok, I'll try to explain. What effect does Enjolras normally have on women, even if he doesn't want to be noticed?" Combeferre finally intervened. While Courfeyrac and Grantaire were dying of laughter, Enjolras and Èponine both looked perplexed and uncomfortable.

"I-I don't know? What does it have to do with his sister?" Èponine tried to avoid the question, but Combeferre didn't let her: "C'mon 'Ponine, just answer the question!" All of Enjolras' efforts to help Èponine out of the uncomfortable situation were ignored by his friends with ostentation.

"Well… I… I guess he's pretty good looking and handsome and the way he talks attracts attention. But I guess that his behaviour is very daunting and for some women maybe even offending and what he says can sometimes be hurtful, if you don't know him well enough to understand him…" Èponine stammered and tried as hard as possible to sound factual and not personal, but the slightly red colour that appeared on her cheeks sold her out.

Enjolras knew that the part of her statement, which described his personal behaviour, was honest. Èponine spoke from her own experience. That arose from the many disagreements they had had. Before they became closer, she had thought him facile and arrogant, because he had never talked to her like he had talked to his male friends.

"So, this is exactly the way Genieviève affects guys or at least us" Combeferre ended his description of Enjolras' sister.

"So, altogether she is a female Enjolras?" Èponine asked.

"Yes and no. She has a different way of living. She, for example she has other hobbies than revolution and she doesn't refuse to have fun, but she definitely has his good looking. But you will meet her one day and you'll know what I mean" Combeferre answered.

"Ok, are you finished gossiping about my sister and me?" Enjolras intervened and he was visibly annoyed. His facial expression said clearly that he wasn't delighted about his sister having raised so much attention amongst his friends.

Èponine smiled slightly. Enjolras was for sure a perfect elder brother: sometimes a bit overprotective but reliable and loving, even if he didn't always show.

The conversation changed to other topics and Èponine tapped Grantaire on the shoulder in anticipation of learning more about Enjolras and his life. She would have never thought him a family-person…

"Something tells me that he is over-protective of her, right?" she whispered so that only Grantaire could hear her. His amused chuckle confirmed her foreboding.

"You should have seen him after she got drunk the first time. She was sixteen and it was her first visit in Paris. She wanted to see Paris' nightlife and Enjolras refused to take her out because of his studies, so I introduced her to the rest of the Amis. Well, no one intended to get her drunk, I mean: We all knew that Enjolras would kill us if something happened to her. But the petite Mademoiselle got drunk anyway. Don't ask me how she managed to get the alcohol. I still remember the bloody nose I got after bringing her back to his flat that night. I truly never saw him that angry and we're friends since early childhood!" Grantaire had difficulties not bursting out laughing and grinned boldly.

"I never knew that you two were friends since childhood! I feel rather sheepish to ask such question, but how old are you and Enjolras actually." She asked and truly felt a bit embarrassed. Yes, the Amis were students so they were in their twenties, but she had no clue about their specific ages.

"Enjolras is twenty-two and I myself am twenty-four," Grantaire answered and smiled at Èponine's shocked gaze "Yes, it is unbelievable that I am older than our marble man. He seems much more adult and responsible than I, doesn't he?" Èponine nodded with a disbelieving look and Grantaire continued: "Yes, he always kept me from getting into trouble and without him I would have dropped out of school. And without me he would have lost strands to reality, because he was always closed up and lost in his books. Gen, Enjolras and I had a very magnificent childhood!".

Yes, Èponine thought, that sounded exactly like Enjolras. When she drew her attention back to the others' conversation, she noticed that Enjolras was no more amongst them. She jumped up and told the students that she still had an errand to run and left the café.

The streets of Paris were full of busy people, beggars and children, who ran through the crowd. A typical Saturday afternoon for the capital of France. Trying to find the revolutionary, Èponine ran through the crowd of people, pickpocketing a wallet here and there. Being asleep at the switch, she didn't notice an inspector of the National Guard until he put a hand over her mouth and shoved her into a side street.

"My, my! What do we have here? A waif earning her day's wage! Tell me Missy, aren't there more legal ways for such a beauty to earn money?" with one hand the officer held both of her arms back on her spine in a rather painful grip, his other hand moved slowly away from her mouth, down her neck and rested at her décolleté. Èponine smelled his bad breath as he whispered those words and she wasn't even able to see the man's face because he was standing behind her.

"You may talk to a waif Monsieur, but I still have my pride and dignity!" she spat out, putting as much aversion into her words as possible.

"As far as I know, poor and homeless don't have pride or dignity! And you, Missy, are for sure not an exception!" he said and his grip on her tightened. Disgust and outrage filled Èponine and she tried to free her arms.

"You don't seem to know the streets and their people! If you did, you would know that you need pride and dignity to survive in such a world!" she hissed.

"If you claim to know the streets so well, I make you an offer: You will find someone's place of residence for me and I will forget about your little, illegal, pickpocketing-hobby!", his grip loosened a bit and Èponine was able to break away from him, but she was still trapped between him and the wall. She was actually surprised about his offer, but had to admit that this would be the only way to save her neck.

"Who?" was her simple reply and the officer smiled sardonically.

"René Olivier Enjolras" he said and Èponine's eyes widened for a second. A gesture, which she instantly regretted, because it proved that she was familiar with the name. Or in her case: only with the surname.

"I see you are familiar with this man. If you know him, you better help the National Guard catch him, we need to get hold of him while he's in action to judge him and the revolutionists are very good at covering their tracks. We would really benefit from your knowledge of the streets and it would be a waste to imprison such a beautiful Mademoiselle for being an accomplice of the revolutionists against the king, would it not be? " he raised his hand to stroke her face but she slapped his hand away, an act, which would have normally sent her to prison.

She almost had to smile on this pathetic attempt to blackmail her. Just a month ago two officers had threatened her life to get information about the rebellion out of her and no word had escaped her lips. And no word would escaper her lips now-

A call for help joined by other voices suddenly interrupted her thoughts. It had most likely been a woman, who had screamed and Èponine guessed that she must have been robbed back on the main street, because other voices were screaming for an officer to help them catch the thieves.

"I think those people need your help, Monsieur." She smirked, knowing that it was the man's duty to help. He looked unsure now and gave her without noticing more space and therefore more options to escape. He departed and slowly walked away from her, still eying her mistrustfully.

"So, will you do it? I'm sure that you will also be rewarded. We could offer you a new life, you wouldn't have to worry about your so called pride and dignity anymore!" he called out trying to convince her, realising that the situation had changed and he was no more on top of it.

"Go to hell!" Èponine hissed and used this moment to escape. She didn't turn around, while she was running. Her brain rattled, trying to think of a place where she could go. She didn't dare to go back to the Musain or even Enjolras' flat. She was too scared that someone would follow her.

There was only one place that crossed her mind. A church! Not because she was very religious, but rather because no one would torment her in a church and she needed time to think and a silent, cool and dark place seemed to be the best place to do that. She used as many secret paths and small alleys as she could to get to the nearest church.

As she sat down on one of the benches of a small and dark church, Èponine drew a deep breath. She needed some time to come down but before her heart found its usual rhythm again someone tapped on her shoulder from behind. She jumped and had to hold back a small scream, but realised that she knew the person sitting behind her.

Blonde, long hair, a flouncy, light blue dress and matching, sparkling eyes. Cosette!

"Èponine! What a coincidence meeting you here! Why are you so out of breath? Good God, is everything all right?" Èponine only nodded and intimated Cosette to be silent.

"I need your help. I was just attacked by an officer, who wanted information about Enjolras' whereabouts! I need you to tell him and the others to be careful. I will distance myself from the Les Amis for a while, because I don't want anyone to follow me to the meetings. The National Guard knows my name and when they are following me, I'll lead them to Enjolras and the others and I won't risk that."

Cosette's eyes widened in shock, but Èponine didn't give her a chance to speak.

"This is important Cosette! They have to know why I avoid them and you have to make clear that the National Guard is close on their heels!" Èponine finished.

"Just one thing: Since Marius and I bought a new flat, the one in the Rue Plumet is not inhabited. I want you to move in and live there for now. I thought about this for a very long time and now is the right moment! You need to go into hiding and this is the perfect place for you. The National Guard would never search for a waif in such a noble area and you won't have to worry about surviving the winter on the streets!" with those words Cosette handed Èponine the keys and kissed her on the cheek.

"Be careful!" Cosette said before leaving to inform the others.

**. . . .**

**Hello everyone!**

**Please forgive me for the lack of E/È moments. I needed this chapter to somehow explain Enjolras and Grantaire's past together and to introduce Geneviève as new character.**

**That brings me to my next point: What do you think about her so far? I am planning on putting some Courfeyrac/Geneviève in later chapters. I am also not sure, if my English was good enough to make this understandable: ****Gen**** is ****Enjolras'**** and ****Grantaire's ****pet-name for Geneviève and **_**Evie**_** is **_**Courfeyrac's**_** pet-name for her. **

**Please review and tell me what you think about her, because she will appear in later chapters.**

**Thank you for reading and I hope you liked this chapter! Great thanks to everyone, who followed and favoured this story****,**** and of cause for everyone, who reviewed!**


	10. Chapter 10

**-Chapter 10-**

The baroque, iron-gate creaked as Èponine opened it, ready to enter the garden of the small flat in La Rue Plumet. It was night and the streets of Paris were mostly empty, Èponine had made sure that no one was following her.

The small garden was totally overgrown, but Èponine liked it somehow. A little bit of nature couldn't hurt in such a loud and noisy town. She looked up to the houses dark windows and remembered the first time she had stood in front of it. Over the stupid heartache months ago she had totally missed the building's beauty.

She nervously unlocked the door and entered the empty apartment. A small foyer let to a welcoming living room and a small kitchen. The other door would for sure belong to a guest bathroom. The flat was nicely done up and furnished mostly in white and pastel-blue. She let the keys fall on the commode next to the door and entered the living room, which contained a magnificent set of book shelves that took up one of the walls. The pastel-blue divans and sofas looked pretty comfortable and the rest of the room reminded her of an English tea-house.

Passing the book shelves, she let her finger glide over the backs of the books and she felt the little girl inside of her awakening, which had loved to read and get lost in fantasy worlds before her parents had sold all her books. Hesitating before entering the first bedroom, Èponine wondered how Cosette and Marius could leave the books behind, it had something sad and lonely to see them left alone with all the other things in this old house.

Alone, just like me, Èponine thought and entered the first bedroom. To her surprise she found a note lying on the pastel-pink covers of the grand canopy bed. She picked it up and started to decipher the quirky handwriting:

_My dear Èponine,_

_I already had the feeling that you wouldn't show up here until it was evening. Marius told me once that you don't like it to be trapped in a house longer than necessary. So I decided to leave you a note just so you can orient yourself._

_I left you some money on the kitchen-counter, you can use it to buy food and other things you need. I know that you are frowning while reading this and I'm telling you: Marius' and my fortune is big enough to cover your needs for this winter! So don't you dare feel guilty or bothersome, we do this because we care about you!_

_Maybe you have noticed that I left many things behind after moving in with Marius. You can use everything you need and in the wardrobe are all my old dresses. Marius bought me so many new dresses that I didn't feel the need to take them with me. Feel free to wear them, they are yours now! In the bathroom you will find soaps, lotions and other stuff._

_I told the others about your incident today and they are very concerned about you, but they promised me (against their will) that they wouldn't bother you until you think it's safe for you to return. But they made me swear that I'll stay in contact with you and that you won't break all ties! _

_If you need help or just someone to talk, contact or visit me! I think if you are dressed like a proper Mademoiselle, the National Guard wouldn't recognise you._

_Have a good first night! There is no one who I'd rather entrust with my former house than you, dear 'Ponine!_

_Yours_

_Cosette_

Èponine smiled down on the letter. Who would have thought that she and Cosette would one day be so close? Five months ago Èponine would have rather risked her life on the streets than lived in Marius fiancée's former house! What a silly girl she had been only five months ago.

Turning around to face the wardrobe, an excited glaze flashed up in her eyes. How long had it been, that she wore nice, clean and proper dresses? Her parents had lost their fortune when she was six, so she had lived fifteen years either on the streets or in old and wrecked inns or studio apartments.

Fifteen years of pure fighting for survival. Èponine opened the wardrobe and observed the dresses in awe. About twenty-five dresses, simple but proper and some of them even exclusive. The dresses proved to Èponine that Cosette had furnished the whole flat, because the dresses were also mostly pastel-coloured. Pastel-blue, pastel-pink and pastel-green were probably her favourite colours. Some other dresses were dark-red, night-blue and mint-green, but it was clear that Cosette liked light colours.

The fabrics were soft and clean and Èponine was almost afraid that her hands would leave dirt of the streets on them. She had to withstand the desire to take one of the dresses out and try it on.

The flat was a dream- no -something Èponine had never even allowed herself to dream of!

**. . . .**

It was already past midnight when she left the bathroom. After observing the dresses, she had decided to take a bath. Gazing at her reflection in the grand bathroom mirror, she didn't know if she was crying out of happiness or sorrow.

She was wearing a white, tea-length nightgown. If she wouldn't have been so skinny, the nightgown would have been body-hugging apart from the long, loose sleeves. Her skin was no more covered with dirt and her hair was combed and fell loosely over her shoulders and spine.

In a way Èponine actually found herself pretty, even beautiful. But she still couldn't deny that her past had left marks on her. Her skin was tanned and pale at once. Improperly tanned by the sun of the past summer and improperly pale from the lack of food and sleep. Yes, she was slim and had a good figure, but she still didn't look healthy. And last but not least: Years of abuse of cause didn't leave her unscarred. Healed scars on her neck and one on her left cheek. Then there were of cause the scars of the June Rebellion, the one on her hand, where the bullet had shot through. The remaining scar of the bullet-wound, which had shot through her chest, was luckily covered under the nightgown with the half-healed stab-wound of her encounter with the National Guard some weeks ago and all the other lacerations on her stomach, which her father was responsible for. And now blue bruises were forming around her wrists where the officer had held her in his iron grip this afternoon.

And of cause the scars on her forearms were still there. The self-inflicted gashes that wouldn't heal until her heart healed from all the pain she had endured.

Èponine knew: she was a pretty woman. But she could have been so much more… She could have become a young, educated and cultured woman. But now not even pretty clothes could make a proper woman out of her.

She was not a bourgeois, young woman. She was a waif and nothing more... Realisation caught up with her and Èponine was once again crying over what had become of her.

She tried to stop the tears but they were flowing inexorably down her cheeks, in the end leaving her sitting on a kitchen-chair with a kitchen knife in her right hand. Èponine didn't know how she had made her way from the bathroom to the kitchen, her mind was busy fighting her soul, which told her to find release in the cuts on her arm.

As the cold blade touched her shaking forearm, she hesitated and a memory appeared before her inner eye. She saw Enjolras' bleeding hand holding hers and his other hand brushing over the cuts on her forearm and a warm feeling spread in her chest followed by a strangling feeling of guilt.

She told him that she would stop, that she would be fine. It was so much harder to hurt herself, knowing that there were people who cared. Ever since their first argument some weeks ago after his speech, everything had changed. He suddenly saw her or better, he actually noticed her.

With a frustrated sigh she let the knife fall on the kitchen table. No, he would notice… If she didn't stop, he would notice and ask her about it. He would be worried and try to talk to her about it. Èponine could already see his grey-blue eyes in the mind's eye, filled with concern.

But on the other hand he hadn't talked to her again about that night. He had completely avoided her over the past days. Normally she was a confident, young woman, but she hadn't dared to ask him about that night. She was scared that he would tell her, that she should just forget the kiss and his words, that he thought it a mistake and that he had avoided her because he was embarrassed. That it had just been an irrational reaction and that she shouldn't tell anyone, because he didn't want anyone to know.

The last thought hurt Èponine the most, because Enjolras himself had told her during their first argument that the chance of a proper student, in that case Marius, wanting to be together with her was small. Wasn't it controversial that he now told her that he cared for her? A few weeks ago Èponine didn't even know that Enjolras even had the ability to care.

Suddenly her thoughts were interrupted by a silent noise that came from the foyer. A shiver ran down her spine and she cursed herself for not lightening the oil lamps in the kitchen and in the foyer.

The noise sounded like footsteps approaching and Èponine silently stood up. Her hand found the knife again and she didn't dare to breath.

Cosette would never visit her past midnight and the Amis had promised to stay away from her. No one had reason to be here.

Panic overwhelmed her! A bourgeois house in a good area was always popular with street gangs, especially when not inhabited. Or better: Not inhabited until this evening!

Whoever this was, he wasn't very quiet and he was alone. She heard how the person passed the door of the kitchen without entering, but the dark was hiding details about his appearance. It was for sure a man, but everything else remained as dark as the rest of the flat.

Her hand clenched around the knife's grip and she started moving slowly. Blood of a stranger on the floor of Cosette's beautiful house wasn't nice, but it was way better than her own blood, so she approached the person silently from behind.

The next things happened so quickly that Èponine had no time to react. She attacked the man from behind and tried to put the knife against the man's throat, the sound of her sudden movement made the man jump and turn around before the knife even touched his skin and Èponine felt a fist hitting her stomach. She stumbled backwards and hit the ground.

The next thing she felt was the man's weight on her body, holding her down so that she couldn't flee. A painful grip tightened around her wrist, pressing against the already hurting bruises from the past afternoon, trying to force her to let the knife fall. She yelped out in pain and suddenly the man stopped yet still didn't let go of her wrist.

"Ponine?! Is that you?" the man asked in shock and the second Èponine heard his voice, she knew that it was no one else but Enjolras.

"Yes, for God sake! Who else did you expect?!" she hissed and breathed heavily.

"I don't know! I didn't expect a girl in a nightgown attacking me with a kitchen knife! What is this all about?" he asked and she wasn't sure if he sounded rather angry or amused!

"Oh, yes! Of cause," she laughed ironically "You burglarise Cosette's flat, knowing that I live here although you promised to not contact me! And after that you nearly knock me out?! Are you sure that you're in the position to ask me what all this is about?!"

"Wow, wait! First of all: I didn't burglarise this flat, you left the door unlocked! Secondly: I came here this evening around eight o' clock and you weren't here, that's why I came here to make sure that you were here and not somewhere on the streets. And thirdly: You were the one, who attacked me, so my instincts kicked in! Are you alright?" his last question was signed by true concern and Èponine felt a heat spreading in her stomach.

"I've had worse!" she answered and avoided his hand as he tried to help her up. Throwing the knife on the next best commode, she started lightening the oil-lamps in the living room. He followed her without hesitating and Èponine felt his gaze upon her while she moved through the room.

"Your wrists… Did I just-" he didn't finish the sentence, but Èponine knew what he adumbrated. Following his gaze, she looked down on her wrists, which still carried the blue and hurting souvenirs of her encounter with the inspector and his painful grip.

"No, no… The inspector today condescended to leave them as souvenirs" she said and Enjolras eyes directly flashed up in relief and anger at once. Relief, because he could have never forgiven himself, if he had hurt her. Anger, because someone else had dared to hurt her! He couldn't tear his gaze away from her.

She was wearing a tea-length nightgown and looked truly angelic. Her skin was clean and her hair framed her face with dark curls that perfectly fit to her dark-brown eyes, which observed him sceptically. They looked glassy and her slightly tear-stained face told him that she had cried not long ago. He was about to ask her, but she let out a loathly groan.

"Enjolras, don't tell me that I actually look presentable the first time in about fifteen years and the only thing you notice is that I cried?" she sighed and almost sounded like a pouty little girl.

"So you did cry" was his reaction to her question and she rolled her eyes theatrically. Hiding a smile, he ran his fingers through his hair and watched her as she sat down on the pastel-blue divan and suddenly the reason for his visit came back to his mind.

"I now, we all promised to give you space until you are sure that no one is haunting you or using you to get to us, but this is my fault and I can't sit in my flat, knowing that your life is once again turned upside down" the moment he had promised Cosette that he would not visit her, he had known that this promise was made to be broken. The National Guard was specifically searching for him and a second time she had risked her own well-being to save him and the revolution.

"Why should this be your fault? I was unfocused and let myself be caught while pickpocketing people! My carelessness is hardly your fault!" Èponine said, shaking her head in disbelief. Or was it his fault? She had been thinking of him while she had been caught. Since when made a man such demands on her thoughts?

"This is the second time that someone threatens you to release information! I don't want you to risk your life for me or anyone else!" he heard that his voice had gotten louder again, but he didn't care. She had to stop playing with her life and he had sworn to himself that he would never again be responsible for one of his friends' deaths.

"Yes, says the one, who jumps off a bridge right into the Seine to save me! I don't think that you have any right to tell me what to do! This is just so typically you! You are of cause allowed to risk your life, but I am not! Tell me, why do you even care? Do you even care?" she sounded desperate now and all the questions, which had formed in her head over the past days, finally came to light. "I mean, you are supposed to hate me! What do you see, when you look at me? You see everything that you fight against, everything that you want to change…" her voice finally broke and she pulled her knees up to her chest as if she was trying to shield herself from whatever answer she would get.

Disbelief was practically written on Enjolras' face, because his mouth was slightly open and for the first time in his life he was at a loss for words.

"How can you even think that I don't care?! Two nights ago I… I-" his voice broke and he panted for air. She looked at him full of expectations, hoping that he would finally comment on their kiss, but no words came.

"You can't even put it in words. Is the memory of our shared kiss so chastening that you can't even talk about it?!" she spat and against her will tears started to cloud her view. Not wanting to cry in front of him, she gave him a last defiant look and after that focused on her hands, which were slightly shaking.

"Èponine, you know that that's not true! I don't know how to deal with this situation. That's new territory for me and all I know is that I don't regret this kiss, because it felt good. It felt right, whatever that means for us…"

Her heart skipped a beat as he said 'us' and it calmed her down to hear that he didn't regret their kiss. It would have besmirched the memory. An uncomfortable silence filled the room and Èponine felt the heat crawling up her cheeks, because Enjolras' gaze was still locked on her face.

"Maybe we should just wait and see how everything develops?" she said subdued and saw how relief signed Enjolras' face. Maybe he was a good orator when it came to political speeches, but defining relationships was neither his nor Èponine's territory. Both were just not used to talking about emotions.

Èponine smiled shy, trying to rerecord the silence and glanced at the set of bookshelves. "I still don't understand how Cosette and Marius could leave their books behind. There are so many great books…" she wondered and her distraction succeeded. Oh, she knew him all too well. Books would always catch his attention.

"I don't know if you noticed it, but Marius isn't really a friend of books and literature. The books here would hardly be of his interest." He answered and turned around to face the bookshelves. "I mean, Condorcet, Rousseau, Voltaire, Olympe de Gouges, Plato and Socrates, Ovid's ars amatoria," Enjolras laughed "Marius is truly a good friend, but he was never interested in such philosophical, historical and political books".

"If I were Cosette, I would have taken the books with me no matter what Marius said. I mean, they are her belongings!" Èponine said very determined and Enjolras chuckled at this comment.

"That's why Marius and you aren't destined to be a couple. He wouldn't survive it, because you're too determined to defend your view and he's too callow to handle such a stubborn woman. You would be his death, that's why he fell in love with Cosette: She's affable and easy to get along with." Èponine couldn't hide her laughter.

"Enjolras! That's cruel, she's a very nice girl!" she declared.

"I never said she wasn't. Far from it, she's very sociable. And her selection of books actually shows that she is also intelligent. But I think that there's a difference between being intelligent enough to understand books, and being intelligent enough to actually implement the things you read."

"Well, if you put it like this, I guess you're right…," Èponine admitted the thought made her smile "I would never let a guy make my decisions!".

"Yes, I thought so…" Enjolras answered before taking one of the books out of the book shelve and sitting down on the ground in front of the divan, leaning with his back against the soft fabric of the cushion. She had a good view on his blonde curls now and she had to resist the urge to run her hands through them just like when they had kissed.

He seemed to be completely calm, sitting in front of the divan on which she sat and Èponine wondered if he was just very good at hiding his feelings or if he was simply calm. She stretched out on the divan, trying to get a better view on the book he had chosen and looked over his shoulder.

"Sir Thomas More's Utopia… Good choice. Renaissance humanism is truly interesting" she said and Enjolras head snapped up and he turned his head to face her, looking startled.

"How do you know so much about history and literature?" he asked and Èponine had to hide a chuckle.

"Well, I guess hanging around with upper class students has a bearing on me," she smiled and rested her chin on his shoulder. For a second her lips accidentally brushed against his neck and she tensed.

He seemed to have realised her body's reaction to the physical contact and laughed teasingly "You're so nervous this evening 'Ponine, what's going on with you. Normally you're so tough."

"This is the first time since many years that I sleep in a proper building with proper clothes and everything. Of cause I'm a bit out of countenance!" she snapped.

"Oh, so my flat doesn't count as a proper building?" he asked smiling, wanting to lean his head against hers, but resisting the urge.

"Well, that doesn't count! Both times I slept at your flat I wasn't really conscious!" she pleaded and he put on a fake hurt expression.

"Yes, 'Ponine. Try to save your neck!" she slapped him on the head playfully at that comment and he burst out laughing.

That was when she realised that it was so easy to just talk and laugh with him. Never before had she seen such a relaxed side of him.

**. . . .**

After about an hour of talking Enjolras felt the light weight of Èponine's head turning into one of a sleeping person's head. She was sleeping on her side and the way she was coiled up reminded him of a cat. Only cats could sleep in odd-looking positions without feeling uncomfortable.

Since she was using his shoulder as a pillow, he didn't have the heart to move and leave her. The dark circles under her eyes told him that she usually didn't sleep very well and now he could also assume why.

Their conversation had let them to other, less amusing topics. She had told him how she escaped the barricades: Just like the Les Amis, the National Guard had mistaken her to be dead after taking the bullet for Marius. She had been unconscious, but the bullet blocking the wound had prevented her from bleeding out. They had taken her to the morgue with all the other corpses and she woke up surrounded by corpses in all stages of decomposition. Luckily a doctor, who wasn't ill-disposed towards revolution had found her and helped her out to provide her. The same man's influence on the conduct of the morgue had also made it possible for the Les Amis to bury their fallen friends.

No, he wouldn't wake nor leave her. It felt too good to see her save and soundly sleeping…

**. . . .**

**Wow, finally done! I'm truly sorry for the long wait, but I was somehow not able to upload chapters anymore. I didn't have access to my fanfiction account! Luckily fanfiction fixed it! Did anyone else have problems with fanfiction lately? **

******To **___Lapiz Lazuli Luna_******: Here as I promised! That's how she survived the June Rebellion, I hope it's not too creepy! (:**

******I wrote this chapter listening to Empty Chairs At Empty Tables sung by Fra Fee and I am still deeply moved by his voice! I have to say, it's my ********favourite version of the song!**

******I hope that I'll be able to upload soon!**

******Do you guys like it? Please tell me! (;**


	11. Chapter 11

**-Chapter 11-**

Enjolras' head snapped up as Èponine entered the living room fully dressed. She was wearing a crimson dress and her hair was pinned up in a loose chignon.

"Don't look at me like I'm a ghost!" she laughed "I know that my hairdressing is a bit rusty!"

"I actually think it looks quite handsome, besides you are talking to someone whose curls could never be tamed!" he said and for a second a small smile lit up his face.

"I never thought that the mighty leader of the revolution would be worried about his hair?" Èponine laughed and she couldn't keep herself from imagining a frustrated Enjolras, who was desperately trying to tame his hair.

"I am not! But my mother was… Hell, she never liked my hair. She always had the desire to make her children fit into some kind of ideal. And believe me, not only my hair didn't fit into that…" he said and Èponine wasn't sure if he was talking to her or to himself. His eyes were cloudy and thoughtful while he approached her and the slight touch of his fingers, as he brushed a strand of hair out of her face behind her ear, send shivers down her spine.

Èponine desperately wondered what Enjolras' mother had against his hair and subconsciously she found herself wondering what Enjolras' mother had against her son at all. Yes, Enjolras wasn't like other men of his age, but she always thought that an overambitious workaholic was the best thing that could happen to a noble family.

"I don't want to step on your toes, but I can't comprehend your mother's opinion" Èponine said and as soon as the words were out she regretted them. It wasn't fair to speak ill of his mother in front of him. "I mean, I don't want to offend your mother or something, I'm sure she is a nice and noble person-" she babbled, but he started laughing ironically and she stopped, not knowing what would be so funny about this topic.

"Believe me, Èponine! I am the last to accuse you of criticising my mother. There is no need to explain yourself." Èponine was totally perplexed now, but he just continued.

"And there is a whole book with characteristics that I could describe my mother with, and 'nice' and 'noble' are sure as death unlisted."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I know how it feels to grow up with parents, who don't care" she muttered and didn't quite know whether to look him in the eye or on the ground.

It seemed as if she had touched a sore spot and she wasn't sure if his emotional reaction was an improvement or a step backwards for their relationship. She decided to fix her gaze on the cockade, which was pinned to his black jacket. The red, white and blue symbol of revolution belonged to the blond man's chest as much as his heart. The only difference was that the cockade was distinctly visible in contrast to his heart, which had until now always been hidden behind his façade.

She hoped that he would change the topic because the uncomfortable silence became unbearable. She felt his gaze upon her and knew that she couldn't avoid his eyes any longer.

"Èponine… Sometimes I wish that I could have spared you all the pain and suffering. If the June Rebellion had been successful, if we had been able to overthrow the government, you might have not gotten attacked and hurt and you wouldn't have to hide." He said and Èponine almost laughed at his words.

Great, not only did he blame himself for his friends' deaths, he also blamed himself for her past and her recent injuries.

"Pardon me, if this sounds rude but sometimes you think yourself a bit too important! Stop thinking that you are responsible for everything and everyone. Especially me! If there is someone responsible for my encounter with the National Guard that night, it is my father because he sold me out!" the second those words left her lips it was already too late. Enjolras frowned and suddenly his gaze turned from regretful to piercing and unavoidable.

Yes, she had wanted to change the topic, but her family-problems weren't the right thing to talk about either.

"Wait, what do you mean?" asked Enjolras and his hands clasped Cosette's redaction of 'Utopia', which he still held in his now cramped fingers.

"It's nothing important, really-"

"Is it truly of no importance or do you just wish it to be unimportant?" he challenged prosaic.

Èponine opened her mouth to give him an offended reply, which would tell him to not poke his bourgeois nose into her private business, but no word escaped her lips. Instead her mind thought his question over and over again, knowing that he had just couched the truth, which she had never even been able to think.

She couldn't bear his grey-blue eyes looking at her expectantly, so she turned around folding her arms as if she was cold. Hoping that he would not think her rude and ignorant, she closed her eyes and tried to assign the words to her feelings.

"My father was the one, who helped the National Guard find and catch me that night. Knowing that I had information about the revolution he exchanged me for his freedom…" she said and tried to put it as factual as possible but a slight tremble in her voice told Enjolras that she wasn't as neutral about the situation as she wanted to be.

"Èponine, I'm sorr-"

"Stop it! I don't want to hear it. It is pathetic enough to have you know that I hurt myself or that I attempted suicide. I don't have to be pitied for my family on top of it all!" she snapped and Enjolras practically felt her protective-shield forming between him and her; separating him from her…

"'Ponine… If wanting to take all the pain away from you and catching your tears is how you define 'pity', yes, than I pity you…" he replied and Èponine could feel him approaching her from behind.

Her eyes were still closed, but the silent thud of the 'Utopia' redaction being put on the commode next to her made her eyes open. Before she could turn around to face him she felt his one hand against her waist, his other hand gently wrapped around hers, which was still clenched to a fist.

She was actually glad that he stood behind her, because she didn't have to face him this way. Looking him right in the eye always made her even more nervous when he was that near to her.

His head was now next to hers and she felt his curls tickling the skin of her neck and ear. Èponine's hand relaxed and she wrapped her fingers around his. They were cold and she brought them up to her mouth to kiss the back of his hand. Opening her mouth to say something she was cut off by his voice.

"Please don't say something…" he said but his voice wasn't rude. He sounded rather amused.

"Why shouldn't I say something?" Èponine asked a bit snappish making him laugh silently, which confused her even more.

"Because as soon as we start talking, we always end up arguing and that is the last thing I want to do now!" he whispered into her ear and he let go of her hand to turn her head sideward and before she could do anything his lips silenced her.

Without hesitating she turned around and her hand found his neck, while his were exploring her waist. He inhaled the smell of her soft skin and her lips' movement almost made him mad. She laced her fingers into his hair and deepened the kiss until they broke apart both panting for air and avoiding eye-contact.

Èponine practically felt how her face turned red and she could tell that Enjolras was nervous too because he was once again running his hand through his hair. He cleared his throat to break the uncomfortable silence and Èponine cursed herself for having pinned up her hair. Now she could not even hide her blushing face behind it.

Her eyes were fixed on the ground and she started playing with the border of her dress' sleeve. It was the second time that they suddenly ended up kissing. She didn't know where the sudden desire to drown in his arms came from, or what it was that made her feel safe when he was around.

Maybe it was the fact that she didn't have to hide from him. He knew so much about her and he didn't judge her. On the contrary: he made her feel worthy in spite of everything.

Enjolras had never felt that way. Never had he imagined that a woman could make him feel this way. Nervous but at the same time unbelievable happy.

From the first time they had talked there had been a tension between them, they just didn't expect it to make them fall for each other.

"You know, you can keep the book if you want." Èponine's voice was shaking a bit but she couldn't bear the silence anymore. Still not looking up she felt him taking her hand again, but before she could react to his touch he withdrew his hand and kissed her cheek.

"Thank you. You know that you are always welcome at the Musain. Whenever you feel that a return is safe, we will be there waiting!" he said and added silently "I will be there waiting…"

Èponine just nodded and stared at him while he took the book and turned to leave the apartment. Just then Èponine realised that he left something lying on the commode where the book had lain.

It was his cockade and Èponine was about to run after him to tell him he lost it, but then she realised that he left the cockade on purpose. She closed her hand around the little piece of cloth that meant so incredibly much to its owner. Leaving the cockade was his way to express his feelings, his way to show her that he trusted her… Or maybe even more?

She didn't know where this thought came from, or was it a wish?

**I'm so sorry for the long wait. School ended and there were so many exams left to write that I couldn't find time to write. But I have summer holidays now, so I guess that I will be able to upload the next chapter sooner.**

**Which means, if you want it to be up soon...?**

**Please review! Greetings and thanks for reading!**


	12. Chapter 12

**-Chapter 12-**

**Author Note: Things that are provided with "**_*****_**" will be explained at the end of the chapter! Enjoy reading!**

Three weeks had passed since Èponine moved into Cosette's little apartment. Never in her life had she been so glad to have a place to live during the winter. Some days ago it started snowing and the beautiful white snow crystals did their best to cover Paris' grey streets but the sparkling white still wasn't able to cover up the suffering and dying on the streets.

The winter took everything he could get his cold fingers on, not even the crying women on the streets that bemoaned their babies, who froze to death, could make him stop. Èponine caught herself thinking about Gavroche and how he would survive the winter on the streets, but then the cruel reality caught up with her and she remembered with an aching heart that Gavroche wasn't there to see the winter anymore. She imagined him running through the streets, catching snowflakes with his tongue and throwing snowballs at the students. These thoughts brought tears to her eyes and it were those moments that Èponine just wanted to lie down in the snow and sleep forever.

She still didn't have much contact with the students. Cosette visited her two or three times a week and sometimes brought Marius. Sometimes they brought her short letters from the Les Amis and news about new strategies for revolutionary speeches, meetings and plans. The people of Paris suffered more than ever and many people had joined the revolutionaries. The rumours about the government's plan to chase down the revolutionaries had spread across the whole town and the citizens were beside themselves with anger. The thought of revolutionaries being chased down evoked many old memories of the first revolution in the peoples' heads.

Although the Les Amis were excited about the public movements they were still regretting Èponine's absence.

_Dear 'Ponine,_

_more and more people are coming to listen to Enjolras' speeches and of cause he never disappoints them! We are all missing you!_

_Grantaire stopped drinking, he says that he won't touch a glass of wine again until you come back! We were all making bets about how long he would manage to keep his word but to our all surprise he has been sober for two weeks now… Not that it would raise the spirit._

_Joly is going crazy because Musichetta has a cold. You know him: he usually tries to avoid all sorts of viruses, but he cares for her and does everything to make her feel better. Our conclusion: The man really loves her! _

_Musichetta sends her greetings and says that, if she weren't ill, she would come and kick your ass for letting us wait so long for your return. _

_We all hope you're fine and think that you shouldn't spend Christmas alone!_

-Combeferre- 

Èponine was happy that her absence at least had one benefit: Maybe Grantaire would be sober when she returned.

Unfortunately she hadn't seen Enjolras since the night he visited her, but two days ago she found a little packet on her doorstep. It was a redaction of Rousseau's "_Discours sur l'origine et les fondements de l'inégalité parmi les homes_"_*****_ with a small note that read:

_Maybe this helps you changing your opinion about pity and empathy…_

_E._

Sometimes she was mad at herself because she thought about him so often. 'Too often', she told herself.

It was one week before Christmas when Èponine decided that it was time to finally return to the café. She didn't want to spend the first Christmas and New Year after her brother's death and her departure from her family alone, so she left the small apartment on a Friday afternoon.

The heaven was grey and the clouds were heavy from all the snow. As Èponine walked over the pavement she nearly slipped and had to hold on to the fence of Cosette's small front garden.

She imagined how painfully cold the snow would have felt on her bare feet and was happy that she now possessed white winter boots. Although Èponine wondered why the hell Cosette picked white ones. There was no colour that was more inefficient than white. Especially in winter. But at least they fit to the grey-blue dress, she wore.

It wasn't long until she found herself in the midst of busy Friday afternoon scramble, which filled the streets. To other people Paris might have looked beautiful with its new snow mantle, but Èponine had difficulties not being reminded of previous cold and dark winters not so long ago.

Just as she was about to elude the main street and chose well-known side alleys to reach the café earlier, the familiar silhouette of a young man caught her eye.

It was Courfeyrac, but to Èponine's surprise he was carrying a big suitcase. Now that she took a closer look at the scene she could see a young woman standing beside him. Not an unfamiliar scene, if she considered that Courfeyrac was very influential upon women, but for some reason the woman didn't seem to be under his spell, as all the others had been. And, well that was an unfamiliar sight.

Èponine approached the pair and Courfeyrac's voice reached her ear through the snow flurry.

"And you're sure that you didn't intend to visit or meet me when you came to our flat? Not just a little bit?" Courfeyrac said and Èponine could tell that he was at least doing his best to bewitch her.

"Yes, I am very sure! I didn't even know that you and Grantaire share a flat. All I knew was Grantaire's address! How was I supposed to know that I would find you at his place instead of him?" the woman answered confidently but she avoided eye contact.

"A clever girl like you could have easily found out!" Courfeyrac's attempt to charm the young Mademoiselle made Èponine smile, while the girl only rolled her eyes before she answered in a bittersweet polite voice:

"But clever girls do other things with their skills. So are you going to tell me where to find him?"

"Mademoiselle, not only will I tell you where to find him: I will also escort you there. I don't want to bear the blame if something happens to you, besides I was on my way to the café anyways."

Èponine had to hold back a chuckle. Poor Courfeyrac, this girl seemed to be more intelligent than his usual predatory-pattern. The pair took the main street and Èponine decided to take the side alleys which caused her to arrive at the café earlier than them.

For some seconds her gaze searched the room for the students, but a piercing squeak, which was soon followed by a bone-crushing hug let her know that Cosette had already found her.

"Cosette, shush. We're not alone in here, I'm sure other people want to have some peace and quiet." Èponine hissed and freed herself from the small blonde's grip. Cosette directly started babbling about how happy she was that she was finally back, but Èponine concentrated herself on the others, who sat in the very back.

Grantaire had also risen from his seat as soon as Cosette had greeted Èponine and was the next to hug her and gave her a kiss on the cheek, while Joly bowed down to her and Musichetta, who sat next to him, embraced her as good-tempered as always. She was such a warm-hearted, witty and confident woman that Èponine was always amazed at how good of a drama-actress she was. Joly had first seen her starring the female chief which committed suicide in the tragic end of a theatre play.

Èponine was glad that none of the Les Amis knew of Enjolras' and her rather complicated relationship. This way none of them expected Enjolras to welcome her in any special way and none of them expected her to greet him any different than every other day. So she just gave him a smile and he nodded, while all the others were talking excitedly at once.

After sitting down next to Musichetta, who was drawing an original for new revolutionary fliers and handbills, curiosity got the better of Èponine and she turned to Grantaire.

"I just saw Courfeyrac with a girl and from their conversation I can tell that she was at your flat searching for you…"

Grantaire raised his eyebrows in surprise and smiled ironically. "I am sure the Mademoiselle's name would help me remember her?" he said and ordered to Èponine's surprise a coffee instead of hot wine punch.

"I don't know her name. All I know is that she had suitcases with her and that she seemed to be familiar with Courfeyrac." She said and thanked Grantaire for also ordering her one.

"Show me a woman in this town unfamiliar with Courfeyrac!" Joly chipped in with and his comment caused everyone except Grantaire to laugh. He was frowning now and seemed to be a bit uncomfortable.

"Wait, wait! You said she had suitcases with her? That is not good! Suitcases, are you sure they were suitcases and not some oversized handbag?" He asked aghast.

"I'm a woman, Grantaire, and I'm not blind; of cause I am sure that they were not oversized handbags!" Èponine answered but was cut off by Enjolras, who didn't even look up from his notebooks.

"Great Grantaire, a woman wants to move in with you and you don't even know who she is…"

"Eh, Enjolras, concentrate on your studies or bring in qualified inputs! This is not funny, I don't want to move in with someone, I already have Courfeyrac at my flat-" Grantaire cried out and seemed to lose his nerves now.

"Yes, that seemed to be the girl's problem too. She said that she had your address, but that she didn't know that you shared your flat." Èponine continued.

"Ok, how did she look, I need details! Who knows…" he stopped not knowing how to continue, but Joly helped him out.

"… how drunk you were, when you met her?" he finished Grantaire's sentence.

"Well, I wasn't that close. All I can say is that she is a bit younger than me, maybe eighteen or nineteen. She was dressed in traveling-clothes, and she was slim and a bit smaller than me. Ivory skin and I think she has dark-strawberry-blond hair, but I couldn't really see it because she was wearing a coat and the hood hid most of her features." She tried to describe the girl as detailed as possible.

"So all in all we know that she is a young, blond and slim girl,"Grantaire asked "that is very detailed 'Ponine, truly very promising" he finished distressed.

"Is the coat black?" Joly asked Èponine.

"Yes."

"And the suitcases' colour is dark-blue?"

"Yes, how do you-" Èponine asked amazed but couldn't finish her question, because Joly started laughing.

"Then Grantaire doesn't have to be worried," he said with his gaze fixed on the café's door behind Grantaire's and Èponine's backs "but maybe Enjolras should fulfil his obligations as an older brother more assiduously and keep track of his little sister!"

The next things all happened at once: The café's door closed, Grantaire and Èponine both nearly cricked their necks looking over their shoulders to catch glimpse of who had entered, Enjolras' notebook fell on the table with a loud clash and his eyes were fixed on the girl, which had just entered the room with Courfeyrac.

The pair didn't seem to have noticed what attention it had raised amongst the small party. Courfeyrac was still carrying Geneviève's suitcases and she had taken off her hood. Both were talking and she was laughing about something he had said.

Their conversation suddenly stopped when Geneviève locked eyes with her brother, who stood up to approach her. For a second both looked at each other but then she hastily approached and embraced him.

"Gen! What are you doing here? You weren't answering my latest letters, you could have told me that you planned on visiting!" his voice was surprisingly different to his usual unemotional tone as he cupped her face in his hands.

"I didn't plan it! It just came to my mind… Besides I didn't want to spend Christmas alone." she said, but Èponine saw something in Enjolras' eyes, which no one else seemed to notice: Suspicion.

"Why alone? Didn't the Duponts invite you?" he asked.

"Well, yes they did, but I actually felt like celebrating Christmas with you. I mean you're the only family I have left." she smiled but Grantaire's laughter distracted her.

"Because Enjolras is always up for celebrating! Gen, did I miss your brother being a partygoer all those years or is it something he keeps hidden under this stony façade only for his sister to be seen?" he called "Now Enjolras, stop confiscating your sister, there are other people waiting to greet her!"

Letting go of Geneviève Enjolras turned to Courfeyrac to thank him for bringing his sister to the Café, while Grantaire, uncaring of all the looks the small group already attracted, lift Geneviève up a bit while hugging her.

"I came to Enjolras flat at first, but he wasn't home so I thought I'd have more luck with you. Gladly Courfeyrac brought me here." she explained and winked at Courfeyrac, who was still talking to Enjolras and now gave her a bright smile.

"Oh, this so incredibly nice of him! And totally altruistic, just how we all know him!" Grantaire mocked him with an ironic smile and received a death-glare from his flat-mate.

With time everyone settled down again and Geneviève got a seat between Èponine and Joly after Enjolras had introduced her to everyone. Taking a closer look at her Èponine tried to find parallels between Enjolras and the young girl. Both had somehow aristocratic facial features. Both couldn't deny being heirs to a wealthy family. Èponine caught Enjolras looking at her and she couldn't help but chuckle at the thought of him freaking out, if he heard her describing his looks as aristocratic. Geneviève's eyes were in contrast to Enjolras' not ice-blue, but green. To Èponine's surprise her hair was not pinned up to an elegant chignon, it fell loosely over her shoulders in slight waves while Enjolras asked her about her journey.

"The journey went very well. Of cause the streets aren't easy to pass because of the snowfall, but all in all everything worked out." She smiled calmingly at her brother's worried face. "Look, I know that you would have wanted me to tell you of my visit-"

"Oh, Geneviève, we are all glad that you're here. I have heard that you're dresses are very sought-after in Lyon. There are so many things I wanted to ask you since I knew that you are a seamstress. I mean look at those gloves you wear, they are beautiful and so different to the fashion-style here in Paris!" Cosette blurt out and didn't even notice that she had interrupted a private conversation. Geneviève was a bit startled for a moment and blushed due to the compliments. Cheery as always Cosette took her hand to get a better look at the pair of black gloves that covered Geneviève's skin up to her elbows.

"Thank you so much, but I'm sure that whoever spoke so highly of my skills totally hyperbolised. It's not that big deal. I mean, I only have to earn money for a single-person-household, so it's enough to survive." She said and Èponine noticed another attribute different to her brother. Geneviève didn't like to have all eyes on her, while Enjolras wasn't afraid to speak in front of a whole crowd.

"But you built it up all alone! That is quite a performance as a woman nowadays" Èponine intervened to save the girl from fashion-talk and asked Cosette for the sugar bowl so that her fingers had something better to do than examining the gloves. Sometimes Èponine wondered how a so well-behaved girl like Cosette could be so importunately.

"I didn't do it all alone. The first couple of months I lived with Monsieur and Mademoiselle Dupont and Enjolras sent money over, so that I was aided. We have to see the truth: It is impossible for a woman to start a life that is fully self-supported without help. And that is unacceptable! Woman should have the same chances as men to be financially independent. I mean, isn't it unfair that men are entitled to inherit and women are not? There are-" Grantaire's loud voice drowned Geneviève's and she shot him an evil look.

"Thanks 'Ponine, I was actually happy that Enjolras didn't come up with any profound revolutionary theme and now we have to deal with Gen talking about feminism and women's rights."

"That is easy for you to sweep under the carpet, because you are not the one running around in dresses, which weigh more than your own weight, or being forced into marriage because it is the only chance to avoid ending up on the streets, because you are not authorised to inherit or work properly." Geneviève hissed and Grantaire only rolled his eyes assuring her that women's rights were as important to him as they were to her, just not when he was in Christmas spirit.

"You did a very good job there, Enjolras. She is just as impassionate as you are." Èponine murmured so that only Enjolras could hear her, who gave her a smile.

It was not much later that Enjolras and Geneviève left, declaring that Gen was a bit exhausted from the journey and she really looked a bit pale with those dark circles under her eyes that showed how much the weariness weighed. She gave them all a smile and left, but Èponine noticed that Courfeyrac starred after her much longer than necessary.

"He should better be careful" Èponine jumped when she heard Grantaire's low voice only audible for her and she understood that he too had noticed Courfeyrac's behaviour. "Gen isn't easy to handle. She was very reserved and contained this evening, but I guess that is because she didn't know everyone. And Courfeyrac is happy that Enjolras isn't as good in reading people as we are, 'Ponine." A small smile graced his lips and he leaned back in his chair.

**I definitely failed at this chapter… Sorry for the lack of È/E****.**

_*****_:"_Discours sur l'origine et les fondements de l'inégalité parmi les homes_"- _**Discourse on the Origin and Basis of Inequality Among Men**_

_One of Jean-Jacques Rousseau's Discourses in which he claims that non-destructive love of self and __**pity/compassion**__ are the natural qualities of mankind and therefore also the reason why the species of human being survived over so many centuries. _


	13. Chapter 13

**-Chapter 13-**

**Author Note: I decided to put the author note at the beginning of the chapter because some advance information may be in need. **

**At the time Les Misérables is set there were not only revolts in Paris, but also in Lyon. Lyon was famous for its silk workings and fabrics, but the silk workers (called Canuts) were suffering under extremely poor working conditions, which were unbearable. That is why Lyon was shaken by worker uprisings (called Canut revolts) since 1831. The uprisings were, just as the ones in Les Misérables, suppressed by the National Guard and ended pretty bloody. Just as in Paris the tricolour was the emblem of revolution.**

**These historical events will be important considering Geneviève's life.**

**To **_Audrey_**: Thank you so much for your review! I was very happy to read that you like the story so much! Thank you also for correcting my spelling mistake (: I don't speak French, which is why I always mix the accents up (: I hope that you like the story's development! Once again thank you for taking the time to review! It means a lot to me! **

**Enjoy reading and please review! **

Enjolras woke up early this Saturday morning. A look through the window told him that it had snowed nonstop during the night. Gladly it had now stopped and only some lost snowflakes whirled against the glass of his window.

He was about to stand up and light a fire in the chimney when he heard noise from out of the bathroom. For a second his instincts sent adrenalin through his veins and told him to grab his pistol to defend himself against anyone who had broken into his flat… Until his commemoration kicked in and reminded him of the past evening and his sister's surprising arrival.

Breathing in deeply to calm himself down, he shook his head disbelievingly. It felt so unaccustomed to have someone staying at his flat, he wasn't used to living with others anymore. It was the same feeling he had had when Éponine was at his flat after the attack. It felt good and bad at once, on the one hand a feeling of not being alone, on the other hand the feeling of giving up his privacy. Running his hand through his hair he decided that it was better to get dressed.

When he entered the room Geneviève was sitting at the kitchen table with a newspaper in her hands. She didn't seem to notice him because she was absorbed in whatever article she read. He could tell this because she bit her lower lip, he smiled at how familiar her body-language still was to him. The only thing that had changed was that she had grown-up.

"Since when do you wear gloves indoors?" he asked sitting down across from her examining his little sister's appearance. Her eyes shot up from the newspaper and found his. And there it was: the observant look, which had already caught his attention yesterday evening, when she told him about her reasons to visit. She still had slight dark circles und her eyes and the fact that she wore black made her a bit paler than he knew her. She usually wore intensive colours like crimson or a dark shade of purple. Black made her look more elegant and grown up, but she also seemed sad. Something his sister had never really been. Yes, sometimes a bit dramatic, but he could only recall a few times that he had seen Gen truly sad.

"So I guess this is how people say 'good morning' in Paris?" she answered with the same untroubled laugh that had fooled everyone yesterday evening. Everyone except him. She might be damn good at hiding something, but he knew when something was going on. When she was nervous she was always blinking more often than usually.

"No, actually this is how I react to your new style" he said and looked at her with a smile.

"And this," she pointed at her gloves "is how I react to your cold flat because you're the only person in Paris, who doesn't use his chimneys in winter!"

"I see you haven't lost your wit" he said ironically while taking the newspaper from her hands to see what she had been reading. The article's headline read:

„_**Vivre en travaillant, ou mourir en combattant …" **__Live free working or die fighting! Lyon: Canut Revolts continue!___

He frowned and sighed. "This isn't the first article. Since the first revolt in October 1831 the newspapers pay attention to it."

"They don't pay attention to the revolts! They pay attention to all the small-minded and ivory-towered Parisian noble women, who are upset because their new dresses aren't delivered at the time appointed! This is madness!" Gen muttered with her eyes fixed on the headline.

"Yes, but this is how journalism works these days. It is controlled by the government and one-sided. Only a few small newspapers are truly unprejudiced and impartial."

"In Lyon the newspapers avoid the theme. They just ignore it. Ignoring problems is what they do best! The Canuts and generally all workers in Lyon are suffering under the working- and living conditions in the working-class-neighbourhood! And I don't even have to mention the poor employee's wages!"__she gabbled on and on and looked desperate, while she was trying to find words for the daily suffering in Lyon.

"I didn't know that you were so affected by the situation." Enjolras sighed.

"Some of my friends were Canuts or silk workers. I visit the working-class-neighbourhood very often, because of fabrics and stuff…" Enjolras didn't have to look her in the eyes to know that they were glassy. For a second she reminded him of the nine year old, little girl, which was sent to boarding school against her will and tried to hold back the tears because she didn't want to cry in front of him. But the next second Gen stood up and cleared her throat.

"I should be going, Cosette invited me for breakfast at a café. She wants to talk about the difference between Lyon's and Paris' fashion style" she said while putting on her coat.

Enjolras raised his eyebrows faking enthusiasm "Oh, sounds … interesting.".

"It won't be that bad. She seems to be a nice girl, a bit naïve, but nice. Besides Éponine will be joining us too. I think she can handle Cosette if she gets too excited about clothes and fashion."

Enjolras nearly spilled his Coffee at the mention of Éponine's name. "Is she? Really? Did Cosette force her to come or did she accept the invitation voluntary."

"I don't think Éponine is the kind of woman that lets herself be forced into anything. Why?" Gen asked casually while taking her purse.

"You're probably right. So what do girls talk about when you have breakfast together?" he asked. He knew that Éponine would never tell anybody about their complicated relationship, but the thought of his little sister befriending with his… Yes, there it was again. What was Éponine to him? At first he wanted to say 'love-interest', but in his mind it sounded so odd. Was the feeling he felt when she looked at him really love? He didn't know, all he knew was that every time she was with him, he lost the one thing he had always been proud of. He lost his ability to think strictly, factual and emotionless…

Suddenly he felt uncomfortable and looked up only to find Gen looking at him with concern written over her face.

"Should I be worried?"

"Worried about what?" he asked startled.

"Worried about you showing interest in women's stuff…" Gen said and he suddenly he felt caught with those watchful green eyes examining him as if he was a ghost.

"The things you do for your sister…" he said and tried to keep his face as neutral as possible.

"Clever answer!" the fact that she repeated his answer from just now just showed him that his sister was as good at reading his body language as he was reading hers. She knew that something was going on with him, but just like him, she didn't bring it up directly.

Waving to him one last time she left the flat leaving it lifeless and silent as it was before she had arrived.

**XxXxXx**

"So this is where they got the cockades! I always wondered how they got them!" Éponine commented. It was truly a mystery she had never been able to solve. Often had she wondered where the little symbols of revolution were made, because in Paris even the slightest indication for supporting the revolution was a reason to get arrested.

"Yes, that was the idea! The King only thinks small, he thinks that revolution is limited to the particular cities. But it is not, it spreads over the whole country because no matter where you are, it's always the same who suffer: The people! And people have contacts and with time they connect. The regime can't put two and two together that's why they never gave consideration to an extraneous source; that's why they never considered the cockades to be made in Lyon and sent to Paris." Geneviève finished and Éponine looked down on the small piece of fabric, which she had pinned to the border of her sleeve so that it looked like a corsage at her wrist.

The three girls were sitting at a table in a small pavement café as the clock stroke 10 o'clock.

"Oh! I see they got you one too! May I?" Gen asked and Éponine gave her the cockade. Since the day Enjolras had given it to her she had always worn it. Against her will she knew that it felt comforting to have something of his with her.

Examining the cockade Gen suddenly hesitated. If Cosette and Éponine had already been closer to her at the time, they would have noticed the small and surprised smile lightening up her eyes.

"Yes, definitely one of mine…" she said and handed it back to Éponine.

"If I had known that Enjolras' sister was a seamstress, I would have come to you to let you tailor my wedding dress!" Cosette interrupted and against Éponine's and Gen`s will the conversation turned back to cursory subjects until Marius came by half an hour later to pick Cosette up because they started preparing things for Christmas Eve.

Éponine had the apprehension that the couple's house would look like a Christmas market when the festive day would finally come.

"Don't get me wrong, but is she always like this?" Gen asked. "You know, like a little excited, fluttering canary bird?"

Éponine snorted due to the comparison which, if you truly thought about it, applied to Cosette. "It's become worse because of all the Christmas stress, but yes… She is always like this. Marius and her want to throw the perfect dinner party for Christmas and now they are both talking about nothing else and I don't know if it's rather cute or annoying."

**XxXxXx**

_19__th__ of December 1832 Lyon_

_Dear Monsieur Enjolras,_

_At first I want you to know that my reason for writing this letter is nothing else but my wife's peace of mind. She has been very troubled after Geneviève's sudden departure and both, me and my wife would have expected a more adult behaviour from a nineteen year old girl instead of leaving with a cloak-and-dagger operation by night without even leaving a letter. I guess disappointment cannot even describe my wife's feelings. We haven't heard anything from your sister since she left and also her emporium is closed since then. We do not know where she went and I am personally also not interested in her whereabouts. It was humiliation enough to pick her up at the prison after the interrogation, I don't want my family to fall in disgrace because of your sister's criminal behaviour. _

_Monsieur, all decisions I made were made for your sister's own good but her ingratitude showed me that your parents were right about her bad morals and misbehaviour. _

_All those years my wife thought that she had changed the girl to a fine, civilised, woman but sometimes even constant efforts don't always bear fruits._

_Yours sincerely _

_Emilian Dupont_

It was four o'clock in the afternoon when Enjolras received the letter on which he now looked down. None of the feelings he felt, stayed long enough to overwhelm him. Disbelief, anger, concern, hurt… But in the end curiosity won the fight closely followed by anger. He had known that something was wrong with Geneviève and here was the proof.

Within seconds he was out on the streets heading to search for his sister when he suddenly realised that he had no idea where to look for her. It was late after breakfast time and even if it was still morning he had no idea where the three women would have met.

So, there was only one place to go…

Had the situation not been so bad, Enjolras would have laughed at Éponine's surprised but unbelievable happy expression, when she opened the door of her new little house and saw him standing on the doorstep.

Without a word he handed her the letter and her eyebrows formed a confused line while reading it.

"What does that mean?" she asked and expressed the question that he had not been able to answer alone.

"I have no idea. She never mentioned an interrogation or an argument. Do you know where she is? You met her this morning, didn't you?"

"Yes, but we departed hours ago. She said she wanted to meet Grantaire… So I guess we look at his flat." She said and Enjolras nodded morose. Why was Gen not honest with him? What could be so bad that she didn't tell him? She had always respected the Duponts, so why should she just run away…

Suddenly the soft feeling of Éponine's hand in his ripped him out of his thoughts.

"Don't look so worried. I'm sure we'll find her and she has a reasonable explanation for all this." She smiled comforting and dragged him out of the house. To Enjolras surprise she didn't let go of his hand until they reached the staircase of the house where Grantaire and Courfeyrac shared a small apartment.

No one opened and Enjolras was on the verge of kicking the door open when Grantair ran up the stairs with a shopping bag.

"What the hell are you doing? You are so lucky that my neighbours aren't home! Damn!" he called out and dragged Enjolras away from the door.

"Grantaire, where is she?"

"Where is who?" Grantaire asked bedevilled and not understanding his best friend's behaviour.

"There aren't that many women in my life I would make a fuss about if I couldn't find them; so it has to be the other one! Where is Geneviève?" Enjolras eyes were filled with something that wasn't really rage or worry… It was a total chaos. Something Èponine had seen before, it was the look he had in his eyes when he couldn't understand something, when he tried to get the situation under control and be confusion's master.

"The other one? If Gen is the other one, who is the on- Oooh!" Grantaire's eyes swayed from Enjolras to Éponine and back and forth. "Éponine is the other one!"

Éponine blushed, not because she was embarrassed but rather because of Enjolras incidentally confession.

"No, wait, what? How did you-" Enjolras tried to form a sentence but the sound of footsteps approaching resounded through the staircase.

"This conversation isn't over! Both of you!" Grantaire whispered totally excited about this turn of events and his lips formed a wide grin towards Enjolras, while he pointed with his finger at both of them.

"What is going on up here?" Courfeyrac burst out as soon as he saw the situation in front of his front-door. Right behind him stood Geneviève and Éponine wasn't sure if she saw it right, but for a second it seemed as if Courfeyrac withdrew his hand from her waist as if he had burned himself the second he was Enjolras.

"We were…" Grantaire started, but Enjolras cut him off.

"We were searching for Geneviève!" He said stone-cold eying his sister suspiciously.

"Oh, well I ehm… We were-" Courfeyrac started but Enjolras also interrupted him not even noticing his friend's awkward facial expression.

"I don't care where you were, I want to know why you are here!" it was totally clear that this question was intended for Geneviève.

The girl thrust Courfeyrac to the side gently so that she stood directly in front of her brother.

"What is it about this letter?" Enjolras asked again and held it up so that she could run over the page. Grantaire and Courfeyrac who also scanned the letter looked confused at Geneviève and the girl only closed her eyes. She looked defeated and sad with her eyelashes heavy and she bit her lip as if she was trying to prevent herself from crying.

"What is this 'criminal behaviour' Dupont is writing about?"

"Stop!" Silence followed Geneviève's silent exclamation. "I don't ever want you to think of me as a criminal, I never did anything wrong!"

"Then explain it to me, Gen. I want to understand it, that's all I want…" Enjolras voice quiet down and his eyes were fixed on his sister.

"I… I was involved in the latest Canut revolts. And I got arrested… That is what Dupont refers to by writing about an 'interrogation'. I was released on bail, because I of my emporium's repute and the Duponts were called to pick me up at the prison." Uncomfortable silence filled the staircase after her words and she looked on the ground. Grantaire shot Éponine a look that clearly showed that he felt as uncomfortable in this situation as she did. That was not a fight between them, it was an argument between brother and sister, but no one dared to move.

"That is not all, is it?" Enjolras was calm now but he still observed his sister and Éponine had the bad feeling that more secrets were about to be revealed.

Geneviève sat down on a step of the staircase. "No it's not all. I was with two other girls at the revolt. I knew them from the silk market, because they came from poor families and worked as silk workers. I often bought fabrics there and we became friends with time. Well, when we were about to get arrested I told them to run because I knew that my chances to get a lawsuit or to get myself bailed out were better than their chances to survive an arrest. I stayed in a cell for… I don't know…four or five days." She buried her face in her hands and some streaks of her pinned up hair fell into her face. "After bailing myself out I employed both girls, so that they wouldn't be found on the silk markets and working-class neighbourhoods. They lived at my flat and I thought it was all over, the Duponts knew about it because I trusted them. And… And that was my mistake, I was so foolish!" her voice was changing with every second from angry to desperately miserable and with every sentence her voice broke more and more. "When I came back from a customer my whole emporium was devastated and ravaged and neighbours told me that the National Guard found two fugitives from the revolts, who had tried to hide…" Lifting her head her voice broke and green, teary eyes looked up to Éponine and the two other men.

Éponine didn't have to listen to the rest of the story to know how it probably ended. She closed her eyes and wanted to cover her ears, but she knew she couldn't. The sad sparkle in Grantaire's eyes told her that he also knew where the story would lead.

"They… They executed them! Do you understand?" Geneviéve asked desperately staring at her brother with tears no streaming down her cheeks. "I directly went to the prison only to be told that a Monsieur Dupont had told them about people in my shop and that his testimony was the hint that led them to two female fugitives from the revolt."

Éponine saw Enjolras slowly closing his eyes his facial expression was a mixture of compassion and his own grief and pain. He knew how it felt to loose friends, to bear a special kind of self-inflicted responsibility for the tragic fate. While Enjolras seemed to be totally silent right now, Geneviève seemed to lose it. It was probably the first time that she had spoken about those events.

"Do you understand? I couldn't stay with the Duponts! I just couldn't and I also couldn't go back to my shop because I couldn't bear to clean up the mess made by the National Guard. I was so desperate, I didn't know what to do! They just executed them! There wasn't even a chance to bury their bodies, because… Because, do you know what happens to the corpses of putative criminals and prisoners? -"

"They are being sent to the morgue and…" Éponine interrupted the girl's fevered words and remembered the way she survived the barricades. She had been brought to the morgue too. "And from there the bodies are being sent to universities for medical researches and medical students to practise surgeries on…"

"Yes! Exactly and it was all my fault! My fault and I survived this! They are dead and the only thing I carry from those events are these!" she cried and her shaking fingers nervously took off the gloves revealing scrapes surrounded by dark red and blue bruises around both of her wrists. Everyone knew where those marks came from. Being locked up for five days handcuffed left prisoners with souvenirs like this.

Shocked silence filled the staircase only interrupted by Geneviève's silent crying. While Éponine watched the three boys and waited for a reaction she couldn't help but feel the greatest compassion for the young woman.

Enjolras was the first to move, slowly he approached his sister and sat down beside her on the stair-step. It was a picture none of them would ever forget. Both siblings as if truly ironically sharing the same fate. Éponine watched Enjolras holding his sister tightly against his chest and it was such a private moment that she felt a bit out of her element. While Geneviève was breathing in and out slowly to calm herself down Enjolras gaze was fixed on his sister's wrists and the fingers of his own hands were cramped to a fist…


End file.
